Stolen Magic
by MadameLunaRaven
Summary: After a horrific event which costs Dorothy her greatest friend, the menacing Dr.Drundle ships her off to a 'special school' in the city. With enemies on every corner, can Dorothy return to Oz in time to stop the brewing storm? *On Hiatus*
1. The Dreams

_AN: I had a dream involving the events in the first three chapters of this story over a year ago and recently, since I've been on an OZ kick, I've decided to try and complete the type of fanfiction I've always dreaded: chapter fan fiction. With original stories, I have no problem writing until the cows come home. In fact, I think one of the issues I struggle most with when it comes to writing is that I can get a little too wordy. While words are marvelous things, writers are supposed to be able to command them in a way where they aid the story. And sometimes, wordiness hinders a story. I digress—_

_I've been trying to exercise my writing muscles in preparation for a big writing project I'll be working on over Thanksgiving and Christmas break. So I thought I'd give this story a try. And if I can't finish? Well, as much as I hate unfinished stories, I doubt that anyone will really notice. There isn't much traffic in the OZ section anyway. This story will blend elements of the movie and the book. It is meant to be a weird mix of horror/mystery and friendship/adventure. Without further adieu(or in my case, distraction), I humbly present: STOLEN MAGIC._

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of OZ. All copyrighted creations are credited to their appropriate parties.

STOLEN MAGIC

**~Chapter 1: The Dreams~**

Dorothy Gale had nightmares. Dorothy Gale also had dreams. In the mind of the almost sixteen-year-old girl from the sticks in Kansas, there is a monumental difference between the two. Dreams are pleasant things. They can be funny, odd, memories, or aspirations. Sometimes you don't remember what you dreamt come morning, but you are always left with some warm feeling. Nightmares on the other hand one always remembers. They are always horrid things, and more often than not they wake you up in the middle of the night—tossing and turning, scared and confused. Dorothy Gale had plenty of warm, pleasant dreams, but she also had many cold nightmares. It all started when she was eleven-years old. Dorothy and her only living family—her Uncle Henry and Aunt Emily—told the story often. A tremendous twister had come upon their little patch of Kansas, in the unexpected and disruptive way that twisters often do. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry—as well as the farm hands Hunk, Zeke, and Hickory—had run for the underground storm shelter. The storm was fast upon them, and by the time they realized that Dorothy was not present it was too late to search for her. Because of the cacophony of noise the storm stirred-up, Dorothy's family was unable to hear her stomping on the shelter's doors. When the storm finally subsided, Dorothy's Aunt and Uncle as well as the farmhands went looking for her. To their tremendous relief, she was alive—but unconscious—in the one surviving room of the house. When Dorothy finally awoke, she told them all a fantastical story about men made of straw, witches, talking trees, and cities made of gems.

Initially, Dorothy's family thought the story to be the result of what the doctor had called a concussion. When the stories persisted for several months after the incident, they thought her to be an imaginative child. When Dorothy turned thirteen and began to tell neighboring children her stories, her family grew concerned. When those children related the stories to their parents—stories which included the melting of witches and writing in the sky—most were far from happy. When enough parents became disturbed by Dorothy's behavior and refused to allow her to see their children, Dorothy's family decided to have a heart to heart with their "imaginative" niece. It had been on a Sunday afternoon, after church. Aunt Em had wanted the pastor's help with the talk, but Uncle Henry felt that he would only intimidate Dorothy. So, when they walked back to their newly finished house—sending Hunk, Zeke, and Hickory ahead—Aunt Em and Uncle Henry stopped Dorothy by the ruins of their old house. The land that had been passed down through Henry's family was spacious enough for them to move the location of their house. The wreckage had made Emily sad, so instead of rebuilding in the house's original location, Henry and the guys had gathered all of the reusable materials from the wreckage and had rebuilt a little ways away. Dorothy was very fond of what little remained of their old house—though she knew her Aunt did not like her to be anywhere near the ruins. So, when her Aunt and Uncle led her to the near empty lot she was very confused.

"What are we doing here Aunt Em? Uncle Henry?" she asked, looking from one face to another.

"Dorothy—" her Aunt began, "—we need to have a talk."

"Talk about what?" Dorothy asked, bending down to pick a clover from the ground. It had four leaves. Dorothy smiled and said,

"Look! It's a four-leaf clover. It's pretty—though not as pretty as the ones in Oz. Do you know, if you find a seven leaf clover there you have to sing to it? If you don't, then you won't get a wish. Only, you have to be careful what you wish for. Talking plants can be dece..deceptuh…"

"Deceptive?" Aunt Em offered.

"Yes—that. Deceptive."

Uncle Henry and Aunt Em looked from one another, hoping that the other would start what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation. After a while, Uncle Henry removed his hat and cleared his throat.

"s' funny you should mention Oz, Dottie. That's what we—you're Aunt Em and I—need to talk to you about."

Dorothy kicked her feet in the dirt in thought. Her expression brightened and she exclaimed,

"Do you want me to tell you a story!"

"No, Dorothy. It's the stories we need to talk to you about. You need…you need to stop telling them sweetheart." Aunt Em said as she removed her church cloves and twisted them in her hands.

"Oh. Well then, shall I write them down? I know I'm not as fast a writer as the other kids, but I could spend extra time on it. Like, before I go to bed." Dorothy proposed, and Uncle Henry and Aunt Em once again exchanged desperate looks with one another.

"I think I shall look for a seven leaf clover." Dorothy declared. "After all, this house…well, the old house went to OZ too. Maybe it brought back some seeds with it." Determined, Dorothy got down on her knees and began to carefully part the grass with her hands in search of her missing clover. She gasped when her Aunts harm yanked her to her feet. Glaring, Dorothy said,

"Ouch! Auntie Em—why are you pulling so hard? I wasn't going to get my dress dirty."

"Dorothy, enough!" Em yelled, loosing her composure. Henry, seeing the change in his wife's temperament, tried to mediate.

"Now Emily, let's not get too worked up…"

"No Henry!" She yelled. "This has to stop! We've spent too much time talking about doing it, too much time ignoring it! We never should have let this go on for so long, for Dorothy's sake!"

"Aunt Em, what are you yelling about?" Dorothy asked, confused and growing more frightened by the second. Her Aunt could be strict, but she was generally a very kind person. She seldom ever lost her temper with anyone else but Hunk, and that was usually because he did something silly.

"Now Dottie, don't worry. You've done nothing wrong. We're just worried about you is all." Uncle Henry placated, coming to place a hand on Dorothy's shoulder.

"Worried about what Uncle Henry?" Dorothy asked, searching his eyes for an answer.

"Dorothy, you know what Miss White said, don't you? About your class next year?" Uncle Henry started, and Dorothy looked towards her feet. When she didn't answer, he finished,

"She said that you'd have to repeat your year. You're a smart girl Dottie, but your head—its just not there most of the time. You have trouble sticking to your chores, you don't do your lessons, you draw on your tests…You can see why we'd be worrying after you Dot."

"I don't mean to do bad at things…" Dorothy mumbled, and Aunt Em's anger finally ebbed. Tearing up, she said,

"We know you don't Dorothy. You're a **good **girl. But it can't go on like this." Aunt Em took a breath to steady her nerves before saying,

"You can't talk about Oz anymore Dorothy. It's not healthy, holding onto a dream for so long. It worries your Uncle and I sick, especially the nightmares. We spoke to Father Michael and he agrees that you have to let this fantasy go."

"But Aunt Em!" Dorothy cried, her eyes becoming as wet as her aunt's. "It wasn't a dream, it was real! I truly, **truly** went there! Toto did too! And the Wicked Witch showed me your face in her crystal ball, so I had to come back! I knew how sad you were! It wasn't a dream, it wasn't!" She stomped her foot on the ground, and her tears hit the collar of her Sunday dress. Dorothy's tears caused Aunt Em's composure to fade, and soon she was bawling too. Surrounded by two crying girls, Uncle Henry desperately tried to think of a solution.

"Now Dottie, we know you think it wasn't a dream. And it's so real to you that you really do think you're telling the truth. We don't blame you for that hon. But you must understand, sure as you're absolutely positive that it was not a dream, we're positive that it was. And even then—it doesn't matter whose right and whose wrong about your dream. What does matter—and I think you'll agree—is that _we _know that these Oz stories are keeping you up at night, they're keeping you from your chores, and their holding you back in your lessons. Now, do you want to keep waking up in the middle of the night, terrified of heaven only knows what?"

"…no" Dorothy sniffed.

"And do you want to make Hunk, Zeke, and Hickory's jobs harder by not doing your job well?"

"No"

"And do you want to have to watch all of your friends go on in school without you, while you're left behind?"

_My friends are all in Oz_, Dorothy thought, but instead answered, "I guess not".

Relieved, Henry clapped his hands together and said,

"There now! Everyone agrees. You'll start keeping up around the farm, and working hard at school, and we won't talk about Oz anymore."

Drying her eyes on her handkerchief, Aunt Em added, "I know it seems cruel Dorothy. I know that you don't mean to worry us, or to do badly in school. I know that you _believe _something really happened in that storm, but you'll be happier now dear—I'm sure of it!" The latter statement Aunt Em said more to reassure herself than her niece. The three of them walked the short distance back to their new home. Dorothy kept quiet for the entirety of the walk.

* * *

><p>"Here they come" Zeke called over his shoulder. Hickory looked up from changing the hay in the barn.<p>

"Do you think they talked to her about 'you know what'?" Hickory asked, leaning on the handle of his pitchfork.

"Well, they're awfully quiet." Zeke replied. As Aunt Em approached, the two went back to working, too afraid of being reprimanded for standing around. They observed in between their tasks that the three went inside of the house, presumably to change out of their Sunday's best. Toto could be heard barking from inside the house.

"They told her." Came Hunk's voice as he put down the buckets of water he was carrying.

"How can you tell?" Zeke asked.

"Because her eyes were all red and puffy, and it takes allot to make that kid cry." Hunk sighed and emptied his buckets into the water troth of the hog pen.

"Well why'd they have to go talk to her about it in the first place. She's only a kid. Isn't a kid allowed to have an imagination?" Hickory growled, pitching the hay more forcefully than was necessary.

"Yeah, but her school teacher said that she wasn't doing too well in school. And, not that I'm complaining, but she's had trouble doing her chores around her too. And the nightmares—from what I've heard say, they've been doing a number on the poor kid. Maybe it's better if she does forget about it."

"Ah, who needs school anyhow?" Hickory said, throwing his pitchfork to the side. Hunk shook his head, and picked the fork back up, leaning it on a nearby fence post. "Take me for instance—I never finished the eighth grade and I turned out just fine!"

"You might want to rethink that argument Kory." Zeke said, and Hickory glared.

"Yeah well, it's okay for a couple of guys like us not to have an education. We're too old to learn anything new anyway. We have gainful employment, good bosses, and our own place to sleep to boot. But Dorothy—you know, they let women get degrees now in some of the big cities. She could get a real job, and in a real nice place too." Hunk added, patting the back of one of the hogs.

"So you think it's right to go and break a little girl's heart like that?" Hickory demanded, and Zeke frowned and pretended to hammer a nail into a fence post. The three of them silently brooded for a while. They all cared for the kid. She reminded Hickory of his little sister—who wasn't so little anymore—and Zeke had a soft spot for anything that moved. They often jokingly called him, "pudding heart". Hunk saw Dorothy almost as his own niece, or daughter. He'd watched her grown up, he'd been there when she came to live on the farm after her parent's death, and he'd been in the storm cellar worrying about her with all the rest of them. After a while, Hunk said,

"I don't know Kory. I just don't know."

And with that, they returned to their chores. Hunk worked hard to finish his extra early. There was a sad little girl he had to talk to.

Hunk found Dorothy, changed into her play clothes, sitting by the chicken coops. She was picking grass absentmindedly, her thoughts obviously still on that day's conversation. She heard Hunk coming, but didn't bother looking up. After a while, Hunk sat down next to her. It was getting dark; Emily would call her in for dinner soon.

"What's with the red eyes Dorie? They're so much nicer when they're blue." Hunk teased. He was the only one who ever called Dorothy "Dorie" instead of "Dottie" or "Dot". Dorothy had been told that her father had called her "Dorie" too, though she could no longer remember much about her parents.

"I don't like blue anymore…" Dorothy sniffed.

"How come? Blue's a fine color. The sky is blue, the water is blue—why even some horses are blue!"

"They're not really blue, just gray." Dorothy said dully.

"Maybe not here, but what about in Oz? Didn't you say there was a horse that changed into many different colors? I bet that horse could turn real blue."

Dorothy stiffened. "Aunt Em and Uncle Henry said that I'm not allowed to talk about Oz anymore. They think it's making me bad."

"Aw, I'm sure they don't think that there's anything bad about you Dorothy. They're just worried, is all. It's the job of us adults to worry about you little ones.

"I guess…" Dorothy responded, though it was obvious that she was just itching to say how stupid she thought that idea was.

"Look Dorie, you're Aunt Em and Uncle Henry told you not to talk about Oz, so don't talk about it."

"Gee—_thanks_ Hunk." Dorothy glared, and Hunk held up his hands in protection.

"Let me finish Dorie! They told you not to talk about Oz, so don't talk about Oz. But they didn't tell you not to think about it, or to believe in it."

Dorothy face scrunched up as she tried to sort through what he was suggesting. "But how will I think about it if I don't talk about it?"

"Hey, I think about lots of things I don't talk about."

"Like what?" Dorothy asked, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. Hunk looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening before he said,

"Now don't tell anyone but sometimes…sometimes I think about finishing school."

"But you're so old!" Dorothy said, and Hunk gestured for her to keep her voice down.

"Hey now, I'm not _that _old. I'm only thirty."

"That _is _old" Dorothy insisted, and Hunk looked at her pointedly. Dorothy giggled, and Hunk's serious face broke into a smile.

"Okay, so I'm a little old. But you're never too old for school, and I got good marks when I was a kid too. I was the top of my class I'll have you know. And my dad always wanted me to get a proper degree and everything, and there are some schools that will take me on account of Grandpa—who was pretty well known in the city. Now you see, I've thought a lot about this, but you're the first I've told. But just because I didn't talk about it before, doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about it."

Dorothy nodded and smiled. Just then, Aunt Em announced supper. The pair got to their feet and made their way towards the house. Before entering, Dorothy stopped and asked,

"Hey Hunk?"

"Yes, Dorrie?"

"You know how you never told anyone other than me that you want to go to school?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, can I sometimes tell you the things that I'm thinking about, that I can't tell anyone else? Even if they're about…the place I'm not supposed to talk about anymore?"

Hunk smiled. "Kid, you keep my secrets and I'll keep yours."

_I hope the first chapter piqued your interest, and I promise that more action will happen in the next few chapters. Really every chapter from here on out, actually. Constructive criticism is welcome, as always. Reviews are a good way to spread karma. ;)_


	2. The Question

~Chapter 2: The Question~

"Now Toto," Dorothy stated, picking up her best friend and placing him on her bed, "you be good while I'm at school. Don't chew on anything that isn't yours, and don't chase the chickens more than necessary."

"Ruff!" Toto replied, his little black tail wagging emphatically.

"I'll take that as a yes" Dorothy smiled.

She left her window cracked enough for Toto to jump out. Picking up her school bag, Dorothy waved at Toto one final time before making her way to the kitchen. She had turned sixteen last weekend, and it had been a good party. She did not have many friends from school. Being a sixteen-year-old freshman was often cause for sympathy, but did not typically inspire friendships. Recently, she had started to make friends with a girl in her class named Ruth. Ruth had come to her party, as had her brother Roman. Roman was around Dorothy's age, though unlike Dorothy he was in the appropriate grade level. Being held behind didn't bother Dorothy as much as people assumed it did. She made good grades, liked her teachers, and was not teased nearly as much as her Aunt supposed she would be. What did bother Dorothy was something that she had not been allowed to talk about in three years now: Oz. She used to occasionally confide in Hunk about the taboo subject, but Hunk was no longer at the farm as regularly as he used to be. Unlike Dorothy, Hunk had fulfilled his dream. He had been accepted into a school in the city, and was studying business. At first, Dorothy was extremely distressed by this news, worried that she'd loose yet another friend. Hunk did not forget the Dorothy though, nor her Aunt and Uncle who had given him work when no one else would. He visited over the holidays, as he had no close relatives. He intended to use his business smarts to help the farm bring in more profit, and swore that he'd return to their part of Kansas after he'd finished establishing a reputation in the city. Dorothy was happy for him, though she missed him dearly. Hickory and Zeke were still around though, so it wasn't all that bad.

Aunt Em was in the kitchen with Dorothy's lunch packed and ready to go. At first, Dorothy had been very upset with her Aunt and Uncle for forbidding her to talk about Oz, and for insinuating that she was lying about the whole thing. It had taken her weeks to say more than five words to them, though eventually she did come around. She knew that they cared for her. It wasn't their fault that Oz was too fantastical for them to believe. If Dorothy had not gone there herself, she may not have believed it either.

"Good luck on your test Dorothy" Aunt Em smiled.

She was referring to a vocabulary test that Dorothy had first thing that morning. Dorothy smiled, hugged her Aunt, grabbed her bicycle, and started pedaling. She wasn't worried about the test. Dorothy, in lieu of being able to talk about Oz, took to reading books. It was hard at first, as she had been behind in her reading development. However, with enough time and persistence, Dorothy found that she actually really enjoyed reading. And she learned so many words from reading that vocabulary tests never bothered her. On her way to school, Dorothy met up with Ruth, who also took her bike. Ruth's mother was actually a cousin of the horrid Miss Gulch who Dorothy despised so much in her youth. After the tornado, Miss Gulch's attitude changed however. She had blamed herself for making Dorothy run away in the first place, and had since tried her best to be as amiable as possible. This seemed to be a great chore, for according to Ruth's mother, her cousin had never been a pleasant sort of person. Dorothy respected that Miss Gulch was trying however, and did her best to make peace by not allowing Toto to chase her nasty old cat. The cat, Dorothy eventually discovered, actually wasn't that nasty at all—especially when it wasn't being chased. Miss Gulch even let Dorothy borrow some of her books, which is more than she let Ruth—her own relation—ever do.

"So, are you ready for the test?" Ruth asked, keeping pace along-side Dorothy.

"I'm not worried about it."

"Oh that's right, I forgot who I'm talking to. _Madame Dictionaire_." Ruth giggled, finishing with a terrible attempt at a French accent.

"Well, you're better at math than I am." Dorothy countered

"Not by much. But you're right, I am." Ruth smiled, and Dorothy smiled too.

"So where's Roman?" Dorothy asked as they approached the highschool building.

"Oh, he went to school early today. I think it has something to do with the preparations of the Fall Formal."

The two parked their bikes in the rungs and chained them down. There wasn't really anyone around who would steal their bike, but Dorothy and Ruth both felt like a little bit of caution couldn't possibly hurt. Dorothy might not have been teased _as much_ as her Aunt was expecting, but like every high school student she still had her share of bullies. Ruth had been bullied too, more so in fact than Dorothy, as she had attracted the rage of their class's most ruthless bully: Melanie Franklyn. And as Dorothy was now hanging out with Ruth, she had become a target of that rage too. Ruth thought that Melanie picked on her because she had nothing better to do. Dorothy thought that Melanie picked on Ruth because Ruth, even though she denied it, was actually rather pretty. And her brother, Roman, was also considered to be rather handsome and funny. It seemed that at one point in the beginning of the school year, Melanie attempted to win herself into Roman's favor by befriending his sister. Ruth wanted not part of this, as she thought Melanie to be a complete twat. So, a feud had started.

Melanie rattled off some generic insults as Ruth and Dorothy entered the classrooms. Neither of them paid it any attention. Before Melanie could say anything more, their homeroom teacher entered the classroom, tests in hand. Several students groaned, others attempted to memorize everything they could before being told to put their books away. Dorothy, confident, removed a pencil and an eraser from her bag and waited.

* * *

><p>The test had gone well, as had the rest of their morning classes. Ruth had worried about it for nothing, as she was just as adept as Dorothy at English. Except in creative writing. Ruth was a logical, essay sort of writer. She didn't understand stories, though she did like to read them. Dorothy, on the other hand, was decent at writing essays but very skilled in writing stories or poetry. She had even had a poem published in the town paper once, though it was hard to find.<p>

The girls sat at their usual lunch spot—an old table underneath a tree. Ruth had identified the tree as a _sassafras albidum_, or a Sassafras tree. Dorothy didn't care much for the names of trees—unless they could talk and introduce themselves—so she took her word for it. Halfway during their lunch, Roman made his way over to their table.

"Hey Manny" Ruth said in between bites. Roman ruffled her hair and said,

"Don't call me 'Manny', it's not…manly." Dorothy and Ruth giggled at the pun.

"And 'Roman' is?" Ruth asked

"Of course! The Romans were a very powerful group of people—known for their warfare, their arts, and their sciences."

"Apparently they never met this 'Roman'. I think they would have changed their name." Ruth teased, and Roman pouted. He moved around the table to sit next to Dorothy.

"You see how mean she is to me Dorothy? I bet if you had a brother you'd treat him ten times as nice."

"Maybe, but I don't know how I'd treat him if his name was 'Roman'." Dorothy smiled, and Roman threw his arms up in defeat.

"I surrender! I just can't win!"

"Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat?" Dorothy asked. Roman and Ruth blinked at her in response.

"What prevents me from speaking the truth with a smile?" Dorothy translated. Ruth rolled her eyes.

"You would know Latin." She teased. Dorothy shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

"Hey, Dorothy, speaking of the truth, and smiling…" Roman started.

"Yes?" Dorothy asked. Roman seemed to be struggling for words, so he sputtered,

"Well, it's true that the Fall Formal is next week, and I'd smile if you'd go with me."

"Pfft—smooth Manny." Ruth giggled. Dorothy blinked, stupefied.

"Oh…erm, I don't know Roman. I wasn't actually planning on going. I can't really dance either, not properly anyway."

"Well that's okay! Ruth can teach how to dance, can't you Ruth?"

"If you were desperate enough to want to go with this Roman warrior over here, I'd be more than happy to teach you Dorothy. Note I said _desperate_." Roman playfully swatted at his sister's head.

"Well…."

"Hey, you don't have to decide anything now. Lunch is almost over anyway. Just promise me you'll think about it." Roman said, getting up to leave.

"Okay, I promise that I'll think about it." Dorothy conceded, and Roman left the table with a smile. Later on that day, as they were unchaining their bikes, Ruth said,

"Hey, all jokes aside Dorothy—Roman is a nice guy. He can be a bit stupid every now and then, but what guy can't? You really should go."

"I thought that you hated dances?" Dorothy asked, and Ruth looked over her shoulder. A sophomore named Bobby Drake was talking with a few of his classmates. When he caught her eye, he smiled.

"I've kind of…changed my mind."

"I'll bet you have" Dorothy said, noticing the object of her friend's stare. Ruth giggled, and the two started their trek home. Later that night, when Dorothy told her Aunt Em about Roman's proposal, she was elated. Like Ruth, she insisted that Dorothy should go. She even offered to help Dorothy sew her dress. Defeated, Dorothy finally gave in. _It might be fun_, Dorothy thought later that night. Toto jumped onto the end of the bed and Dorothy rubbed his belly with her foot. As sleepiness took control, Dorothy drifted to sleep, thinking about dancing with Roman.

_Dorothy Gale was happy. She was in Oz again, and her friends surrounded her. The Cowardly Lion, the Tin Woodsman, the Scarecrow, Glinda—they were all there. She was in the Emerald City, and everyone was dressed for a dance. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, Dorothy was shocked. She was a little girl again, and she was wearing a poppy red dress. On her feet, the ruby slippers glistened. Her friends led her to the ball floor and she danced with them one at a time, spinning faster and faster. Eventually, she noticed that everyone had stopped to stare. Puzzled, Dorothy tried to stop and discern what it was they were looking at. To her distress, Dorothy realized that her feet would not stop dancing. She looked for Glinda, hoping for help, only to find that the woman she thought was Glinda had no face. Startled, she looked towards the rest of her friends only to find the same thing to be true of all of them. Dorothy screamed. Her cries were cut off by a strong hand, which gripped her throat and lifted her off of the ground. Even in the air, her feet still kept dancing. She gazed into the face of her captor as the oxygen drained from her body. A green face with a wicked purple smile gazed back at her. Her eyes glowed with hate, and Dorothy could see green fire in her pupil's reflection. _

She awoke just as she heard the poignant snap of her throat. Dorothy covered her mouth in order to muffle her screams. She had learned to do this a long time ago, as Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were blissfully unaware of the fact that her nightmares continued even after she stopped talking of Oz. Her heart hurt terribly. It felt as though it was trying to flee the cage made by her ribs and take off into the night. Toto whined and crawled over to lay by Dorothy head. Dorothy took him into her arms and held him as tightly as she could without hurting him. Toto licked her forehead in sympathy. Rolling onto her side, Dorothy spotted a book on her dresser: "The Twelve Dancing Princesses and other stories"

Sighing, Dorothy said aloud, "that's the last time I read anything by the Brothers Grimm before I go to bed."

_But was the nightmare really caused by reading the wrong sort of story before bed, or is it meant to be a warning? _


	3. The Dance

~Chapter 3: The Dance~

On the morning of the dance, Dorothy was surprised to find herself excited. She hadn't been excited when her and Aunt Em and picked a pattern for her dress. She hadn't even been excited when they bought new fabric. But now, as she admired the finished piece before her, Dorothy couldn't help but feel a little excited.

It hadn't taken Dorothy long to decide on the color. The dress would naturally have to be blue. She'd always liked blue, especially after her time in Oz. In fact, it was the fact that Dorothy had been known to like blue before Oz that probably made Aunt Em more accepting of her infatuation with the color. Had it been three years ago however, Dorothy knew her Aunt would have been unrealistically upset. But then, Aunt Em had generally been a fussy person in the years following the twister devastation. Aside from the fact that Dorothy's mental state worried her, she'd had to deal with rebuilding her home, making up for the financial losses that the storm caused, and the departure of her sister who had past away a year after the disaster. Dorothy's other aunt, Florence, had been Emily's last surviving sibling. She had last two to consumption in her youth, and Dorothy's father, Durcell, had died from pneumonia when Dorothy was four. Looking back, Dorothy could understand how her persistence in telling the Oz stories—which at times could be quite scary—would be too much for her Aunt.

The blue fabric that Dorothy had chosen was not the same checkered print that she had worn during her trip to Oz years ago. Instead, it was azure with a very muted floral pattern. Surprisingly, Dorothy and her Aunt had been drawn to exactly the same pattern. Toto had liked it too, and the first thing he had tried to do with it was to drag it around the house in his mouth. If you understood dog behavior, and Dorothy felt she did, you knew that this was a good sign. That is, unless you actually let the dog run around the house with the object of his desire. In that case, you might end up with some drool-drenched cloth. And no one wanted a drool-covered dress.

After finishing her dress, Dorothy spent the rest of the morning helping around the farm. As she gathered eggs from the coop, Zeke and Hickory began to tease her.

"So, Dorothy, why is it that we haven't met this Bowman kid." Hickory started, leaning against the chicken coop.

"It's Roman, and you have met him. He was at my party, remember?"

"Yeah, well, that's not a formal introduction. Doesn't he have to like, ask our permission to take our little Dottie out to the dance?" Hickory joked, and Dorothy rolled her eyes.

"What about a roman?" Zeke asked, joining the conversation.

"You know, the kid who was at Dottie's birthday party. The one who doesn't think he needs to get permissions of the uncles before taking their little niece out to the party."

"Oh yeah," Zeke started, coming to stand next to Hickory, "that chump. I didn't know he was Italian."

"He's not roman, his name is Roman. And since when are you two my uncles?" Dorothy smiled, placing her hands on her hips.

"Why, since forever Dot. Who was it that helped you when you scraped your knee while riding your bike?" Hickory demanded.

"Hunk" Dorothy replied

"Oh yeah—well, who was it who helped you study for that big science test?"

"Hun, again." Dorothy smiled.

"Geeze Zeke, we ain't making a very solid argument here." Hickory said, elbowing Zeke in the side. Dorothy laughed and smacked both of them playfully with a nearby rag.

"You both can meet Roman _formally _tonight, when he and Ruth come to pick me up. And you can enthrall him with all of the stories of how Hunk helped me with homework and scratched knees."

The three of them laughed, and spent the rest of the morning trading jokes. Distantly, she wished that Hunk had been there too. She loved Zeke and Hickory, but the dynamic just wasn't as bright without the third member of their trio.

* * *

><p>After lunch, Aunt Em helped Dorothy decide what to do with her hair. It had darkened since her youth, no longer quite as obviously red. Now it was a darker chestnut brown, though in the sunlight you could still see the red tint. Naturally, her hair was curly. Not outrageously so—just curly enough. Dorothy was grateful for this. Ruth had wonderfully curly hair, but according to her it was hard to maintain. Aunt Em's hair was as straight as a pin. Eventually, Dorothy decided to keep her hair down, but to pin some of the thicker strands away from her face. Standing over her, Aunt Em remarked,<p>

"You look like your father, only prettier."

Dorothy smiled. "Really? I don't really remember his face very well."

"I wish you could have had him for longer, Dorothy" Aunt Em sighed. "He was a good man: funny, creative, smart. You're more like him than you know. Except for that easy wit. That is _all _your mother's."

"Well, at least I have someone to blame for it." Dorothy smiled

"Yes, you're mother was very witty." Aunt Em said, placing a picture of Dorothy's parents in front of her. Dorothy ran her thumb over the glass. The two people who stared back at her were ghosts in her memory. Without pictures, she would only have a vague recollection of what they looked like. It used to be that she could recall their faces with crystal clarity. Over the years however, as her Aunt and Uncle replaced their roles in her life, the details of their features began to blur. Her hair was a combination of her mother's and her father's hair. She had the curls of her mother's locks and the coloring of her father's. Like her mother, Dorothy was not very tall—she had stopped growing just shy of five feet, four inches. She was also petite like her mother. Ruth had teased her about her almost childlike physique, especially considering the fact that Dorothy was the oldest in their class. Dorothy didn't mind though. Curves and things didn't really interest her. It was much easier, in her opinion, to sew a dress for a woman with a simple figure.

"What else was my mother like? You don't speak of her often." Dorothy asked, still admiring the picture in her hands.

"Well, I suppose I don't because I really didn't know her well. Her family wasn't from around here—they were Welsh, as a matter of fact. I believe her parents immigrated to Nebraska sometime before she was born. They were merchants in Whales, and they brought their trade over with them. At some point, they moved to Topeka. Durcell had traveled to the big city after school, hoping to make something of himself. They met there, and before long they were set to get married. The first and only time I've ever been to Topeka was for the wedding actually."

"I didn't know any of that…" Dorothy mused. As she dressed behind the divider, Dorothy asked,

"What was my mother's maiden name?"

"Oh, let me see now…it started with a 'd' I'm sure. Deer! That was it. Only, I think they spelt it with an 'e' on the end. Yes, Gwen Deere."

Dorothy stepped out from behind the divider, and Aunt Em clapped her hands together and smiled.

"Oh, you look lovely Dorothy. It really is a lovely pattern." Aunt Em said, straightening the back of the dress and zipping it closed.

"Auntie Em?"

"Hmm…yes dear?" she asked, buzzing around the dress with scissors—looking for loose threads to cut.

"What ever happened to my grandparents? My mother's parents, I mean."

Straightening behind her, Aunt Em removed the pins from her mouth and moved to return them to the pincushion.

"You know, I don't really know. When your parents died—may they rest in peace—and we were informed that we were your guardians, your Uncle Henry and I were a little confused. As far as we knew, the Deeres still lived in Topeka, which was closer to you than we were. We tried to find an address for them. We thought that we had found their business address, but the telegram we sent was returned to us. Your parents' obituaries were listed in the paper, as well as an address that Gwen's family could reach us at. We never heard anything back. It was a real mystery."

"Well, I guess that's all in the past now." Dorothy said, though in truth the news troubled her. She thought on it some more before Ruth and Roman came to get her, though by the time they arrived she was content to put the matter off until after the dance. When Roman arrived, an interrogation was waiting for him. Uncle Henry, Zeke, and Hickory surrounded him. From her room, Dorothy heard snippets of the conversation.

"—how old are you exactly _Roman_?" that was Hickory's voice

"Seventeen sir"

"And how exactly are you transporting our Dorothy to your dance?" that was Zeke's voice, and Dorothy giggled at his attempt to sound intimidating. Anyone who knew Zeke knew that he couldn't hurt a fly—literally.

"My parents have lent me their motor car"

"I don't trust those horse less carriages. Too easy. Mother always said, 'the devil resides over easy work' " that was Uncle Henry

"Erm…" Roman struggled, obviously not prepared to be ambushed by three over-protective men.

"Yeah—how do we know this motor car is safe? Do you even have the right papers to drive it son?" That was Hickory

"Yes sir!"

"Happen to have those papers on you?" that was Zeke again. Before Roman had to answer, Aunt Em cut in,

"Alright, that's enough the lot of you. He isn't trying to marry her, he just wants to take her to dance. If you don't stop pestering him, I'll see to it that you have plenty extra to do around the farm! Now Ruth dear, Dorothy is in her room. Why don't you go back and meet her?"

A few seconds later, Ruth knocked on Dorothy's door.

"Come in" Dorothy called, setting Toto on her bed.

"Are you ready ye—oh wow, you look great. Who would've thought you'd clean up so well? Not Melanie 'Frankenstein' I bet. She'll be just furious, especially since you're going with Roman."

"Um, firstly, thanks I guess. Secondly, you didn't happen to urge me to go with your brother because you wanted to irritate Melanie Franklyn, did you?" Dorothy raised her brows at her friend, and Ruth shrugged.

"It wasn't the first thing to come to my mind, but after I thought about it and realized how royally peeved she'd be, it definitely made your going seem even better."

"I thought you didn't care about Melanie." Dorothy said as the two left her room for the kitchen.

"I don't. If I cared about her, I probably wouldn't take so much joy from her suffering."

* * *

><p>Dorothy had been pleased by Roman's reaction, and had even been pleased that Hickory, Zeke, and Uncle Henry had put up such a fuss. Sometimes, it was nice to be reminded that she was in fact a girl. Her and Aunt Em didn't really talk about girl things, and Aunt Em was not an overtly feminine woman. She was a devoted wife and a hard worker though, and Dorothy admired her drive greatly. The ride in the motor car had been interesting. Dorothy had never ridden in one before, as her family only had horses and one carriage. Ruth's parents had relations in some of the bigger cities, so a motor car was a necessity. They had stopped to pick up Bobby Drake, who sat in the front with Roman. While they talked about band(they were both members of the school band), Dorothy listened to Ruth talk about how long it took her to get ready, where she bought her dress, and how much she hoped that Melanie 'Frankenstein' had a big nasty zit. Ruth did look very lovely—her pink dress worked well with her light brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Unlike Dorothy, she chose to wear her hair on the top of her head, held together with glistening hair pins. Dorothy had never really had a female friend before Ruth. In Oz, her close friends were all boys. Dorothy liked to think of Glinda as a friend, though she'd had very little real interactions with her during her time in Oz. And, the fact that Glinda had withheld the fact that Dorothy could have gone home at anytime during her journey always puzzled Dorothy. In hindsight, it really didn't matter. After all, if she had just gone straight home she never would have met her very precious friends.<p>

The decorating committee—of which Roman was apart—did a commendable job in decorating the school. The gymnasium had been done in fall colors, and the lanterns had patterns painted on their glass—which in turn created some very interesting patterns in the light. The moment the motor car was parked, Ruth and Bobby took off towards the gymnasium together. Dorothy smiled at her friend's enthusiasm, and she and Roman made their way slowly towards the already packed dance. Roman had been fidgety since they had gotten in the car and, before entering the gymnasium, Roman stopped Dorothy and presented a box.

"I—erm—bought this for you this morning. I thought the color would look nice with your eyes, but I guess I should have asked you what color your dress was first…"

Dorothy opened the box to find a blue corsage. Sure enough, the color was almost exactly the same shade as her dress.

"It's very lovely—and I really love the color. I don't think you can ever do wrong with too much blue."

"So you really like it?"

"Yes" she affirmed.

Relieved, Roman regained some of his usual confidence. Offering her his arm, the two made their way into the crowded gymnasium. Unfortunately for Ruth, Melanie did not have any visible pimples. If it weren't for the perpetually nasty look that constantly adorned her face, she would have looked very pretty. Her dress was pink, like Ruth's. There was a brief moment during the duration of the dance when Ruth and Melanie's eyes met. The two of them looked each other up and down, sneered, and returned to their partners. Once or twice Dorothy felt Melanie's icy glare upon her, but she pretended not to notice. In all honesty, she didn't care. Sometimes, Ruth criticized Dorothy for not standing up for herself. In truth, fear had nothing to do with it. Dorothy just didn't care enough about what other people thought to even want to fight back. Such things just didn't phase her. When you've been kidnapped by flying monkeys, trapped by a witch, and then melted said witch—school bullies are nothing.

Ruth's dancing lessons had paid off. Dorothy only stepped on Roman's feet once, and it was because they were bumped by another couple. After a while though, Dorothy grew bored of all the dancing. She didn't know why, but she assumed that there would other things to do than dance at a dance. Unfortunately, it was either dance or gossip. And Dorothy really didn't care for gossip. An hour into the dance, Dorothy heard a familiar sound. It was barking. Looking over her shoulder, Dorothy caught a glimpse of a little black dog running into the gymnasium. One of the sophomore girls shrieked when he darted past her feet, and her partner broke out in laughter.

"Isn't that your dog?" Roman asked, and Dorothy bent down to receive her furry friend. Toto licked at her face, and Dorothy giggled.

"Yes—I guess he followed me. I can't imagine why though. I mean, he used to follow me everywhere, it took ages to get him to stop following me to school. And he'd older now, so he doesn't have as much energy as he used to. I guess maybe he was confused about my leaving in the evening."

"Well, that's sweet I guess. But, uh, I don't think the faculty is too happy about a dog in the gymnasium." Roman said, gesturing towards two teachers who were making their way across the room to their location.

"Right, I'll take him outside. Do you think—would you be terribly upset if you took us home?"

"Oh" Roman deflated. "Yeah, I should probably take you home huh? I mean, you couldn't just like—tie him up outside or something, right?"

"No, I most certainly couldn't" Dorothy said with all severity, and Roman sighed in defeat.

"Okay, I was a little tired of dancing. Why don't you go ahead and make towards the car before the teachers make their way over and I'll go tell Ruth what we're doing."

"Okay. Sorry Roman" Dorothy said, and Roman smiled by way of response. She just barely managed to sneak out of the gym before being scolded by her teachers. When outside, Toto leaped out of her arms and began to pace the ground. His tail was raised in alert. Frowning, Dorothy bent down and rubbed his back.

"What's the matter Toto?"

"Grrruff" Toto growled. Dorothy leapt back in surprise. Turning his nose towards the sky, Toto continued to growl quietly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Roman asked, appearing beside her with his keys. Dorothy shook her head. As they made their way to the parked car, Toto remained antsy. Just as Roman placed his keys in the driver's door, Dorothy heard a strange sound. _Flapping?_ Squinting into the darkness, Dorothy heard the sound draw closer. Toto went ballistic. In a frenzied blur, something very large tried to grab Dorothy. She narrowly avoided it by ducking, and Toto jumped into the air and snapped his jaw. Turning to see what had caused the sound, Roman was barely able to lift his arms in defense before the dark creature materialized in front of him. The light from the gymnasium caught the creature in its sights for a moment, and Dorothy saw something she did not think she'd ever see again. It was a Winkie. Only, unlike the Winkies she had seen during her last visit to Oz, this one had a sickly look about it. Its eyes were wet and red and it let off a foul smell. The Winkie reached forwards and gashed Roman's arm with its forepaw claws. Roman screamed in pain, and Dorothy stared in shock. Regaining her composure, Dorothy began to run towards the gymnasium, hoping to find help. The Winkie followed her with alarming speed and tried to grab her with its feet. It missed, and instead gashed her back. Crying out in pain, Dorothy fell to the ground. As the Winkie circled round for another attempt, Toto waited in amush, leaping when it flew close enough to the ground and locking onto its left arm. Dorothy propped herself up on her elbows. She watched as Toto would not be shaken, despite the Winkie's best efforts. Looking for a weapon, Dorothy found a rock on the ground to her left. She tossed it at the Winkie's forehead and the creature shrieked in pain. Deciding to abandon its effort, the Winkie took off into the night, with Toto still attached to its arm.

"TOTO!" Dorothy screamed. She tried to pursue by foot, only to collapse in pain. She must have hurt her ankle during her fall. She noticed Roman groaning on the ground nearby, and remembered his wound. Crawling over to him, Dorothy took a full account of his injury. It was bad. Even in the limited light she could tell as much.

"Help! Someone help us!" Dorothy cried with all of her might, and she continued to cry until help came. In the flurry of actions that followed, Dorothy remembered the horrified expression on Ruth's face, as well as the shock and fear on the faces of the crowd that gathered around them. It would be a long time until Dorothy ever felt like dancing.

_Where the heck did that Winkie come from anyway? Didn't the Tin Woodsman gain control of the Winkie kingdom in the book? What will happen to Toto? And will anyone believe Dorothy's account of their attacker?_


	4. The Decision

_AN: Just a clarification—in the book, Dorothy is actually Henry's relation, not Emily's. In the movie, this is never elaborated on. When I was younger, I always thought that Dorothy was related to Emily, as more attention is given to their relationship. So in this story, I've made Dorothy a relation of Emily instead of Henry. The relationship between Henry and Dorothy will be discussed in greater detail in this chapter. You'll also start see the influence of the 1985 film, "Return to Oz". _

~Chapter 4: The Decision

_Dorothy Gale dreamt of that night with vivid detail. Through her dreams, her memory was able to concoct an even more horrific chain of events. The twisted Winkie was presented to her in greater detail. It was for all intents and purposes—despite any rhyme or reason—a corpse. She could smell the rott of its flesh—see the blood clotting in its eyes. It disgusting paw, the one that had struck poor brave Roman, was nothing but maggots and bone. She saw Toto, fighting for both his life and hers. He was always such a brave dog—such a loyal companion! She had never allowed herself to envision a world without him. But now…oh where had here beloved Toto gone? Would he fall to his death, or would the undead monster kill him first?_

Her face grew wet. Stirring from her slumber, Dorothy instinctively reached for Toto. But it was not his tongue that wet her face—it was her tears. Blinking the water from her eyes, as well as the sleep, Dorothy realized that she was sleeping on her stomach. The throbbing pain in her back had reminded her why. Unlike her detail of the attack, Dorothy remembered only bits and pieces of what transpired afterwards. She remembered hearing Ruth's screams, she remembered her homeroom teach—trying to shake her out of her shock. They asked questions—so many questions. And Dorothy answered them all with the truth. The last words she remembered hearing before she drifted out of consciousness were: "She's gone crazy with shock."

The next thing she knew, she had woken up in the small clinic—the only sort of hospital located in the rural part of Kansas where Dorothy resided. The doctor—was the same doctor who had treated her after she had returned to Kansas from Oz with a concussion.

While she was in shock, the nurses had stitched the gash on her back and covered it with fresh bandages. Aunt Em, afraid of blood, could not bring herself to stay in the clinic with her. So Uncle Henry kept her bedside vigil instead while Aunt Em, Zeke, and Hickory managed the farm. When Dorothy had woken up the night after the incident, the nurses had to administer pain-killers to keep her from thrashing about in pain. On the fourth day, Dorothy finally managed to regain some of her memory and control. When Uncle Henry saw that she at last had woken, Dorothy's first questions were about Toto and Roman.

"How is Roman's arm? Is he going to be all right? And Toto—my darling Toto! Has he…is he?"

"Now, now Dot—calm down. Everything will be all right."

"But Roman and Toto, are they—"

"Roman is fine. thinks that he'll make a full recovery, though he'll have to skip band practice for awhile."

"And Toto?" Dorothy asked, her eyes tearing. Uncle Henry frowned.

"We realized that he'd gone after you to the dance a little while after you left. We didn't think much of it, and it was too dark to go looking for him. Besides, we knew he'd fine you. Only he wasn't there when we found you. He hasn't come home since, but Hickory and Zeke have been keeping an eye out for him. I'm sure he's all right Dotie…"

"But he isn't Uncle Henry! That _thing_ took him away!" Before Uncle Henry could respond, entered to the room. Rising to greet him, Uncle Henry said,

"Ah, . I was just telling Dotie here that Roman will be okay."

"That's right Dorothy, he'll make a full recovery. But now, onto more serious matters—" took the seat that Uncle Henry had previously been occupied. Folding his hands on his lap, he gave his best reassuring smile. Dorothy was far from reassured.

"We need to talk about what happened. Roman never saw the attacker clearly, but he says he thought you did. It's unheard of really, a crime of this brutal nature happening in this part of Kansas. Therefor, it's imperative that we give a description to the authorities as soon as possible."

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard." Dorothy began, and Uncle Henry and leaned forward in anticipation. "It had wings, four legs, and eyes as red as rubies."

"I…I beg your pardon. I thought you said it had _wings_." asked, clearly startled.

"You don't need my pardon , because that's exactly what I said. It was a Winkie, I'm sure of it. Only, it didn't _feel_ at all like the Winkies I remember. And the Tin Woodsman is supposed to look after them now—and they didn't seem at all evil when I left. It was the witch that made them so. So **why **did it come here, and why did it take Toto? Oh Toto—you have to find him. You have to let the police know!" Dorothy cried, her face growing sticky with tears.

" I have to—I have to go look for Toto—" she gasped, attempting to climb out of bed. A nurse who had entered the room during her story tried to force her back into bed.

"Now, now miss—you'll tear your stitches." She pleaded, but Dorothy would not be held back. grabbed another nurse from the hall and hurriedly whispered something into her ear.

The nurse who was already in the room held Dorothy back, while the new nurse filled a syringe with clear liquid. Dorothy did not even register the fact that she had been injected with something until her body became numb and her thoughts because loose and undefined. Groaning, she allowed herself to be settled back into bed. led Uncle Henry into the hall.

"Henry, you told me that she had stopped with these delusions."

"She had Doctor—she has! She's just under shock is all. Her dog is missing, the dog that's never left her side for six years now. She was attacked, he friend was attacked—she's just…she's just shocked is all." Henry said, though in truth he did not entirely believe it himself. Dorothy had fooled Emily into thinking that she no longer thought about the magical world she called Oz, but Uncle Henry had long suspected that Dorothy had never given up on the fantasy. Before Hunk left, he caught snippets of hushed conversations that included things like "tin men" and "good witches". He had thought it harmless though. He had never seen the evil that his wife saw in those stories. Now…well, now he wasn't sure. led him into his office where the two could converse behind closed doors.

"This tale she's concocted worries me Henry. It isn't healthy for her to cope with stress with ridiculous stories of flying monsters. Now, you could be right. She could just be speaking out of stress at the moment. And we'll wait on it for a few more days—let the shock mellow—before questioning her again. But I want to prepare your for the possibility—"

"The possibility of what Doc? That she's going crazy like her—"

"The possibility, Henry, that she'll need more long term treatment."

"Yeah well…" Uncle Henry said, rising to leave. "She won't need that. She's a good girl who's had a tough time. You'll see."

"I dearly hope so Henry" said as he held the door open for Henry. Henry walked briskly past him, determined to return to his niece's side.

* * *

><p>When Henry Long of Kansas heard that his wife's(Emily Gale) niece would be coming to stay with them on their little farm in the middle of nowhere, he was far from excited. He and Emily had learned early on in their marriage that an accident from Emily's youth had left her unable to have children. The two had considered adoption, though eventually decided that their farm's meager earnings would not be enough to support them, pay the help, and support a child. So instead they had taken to boarding the extra room in their house for a fee to travelers from all over. This is how Hunk had first come to work for them. When he was just seventeen and recently out of school, Hunk Pike had nowhere to go. His father had died when he was young, having been disowned by his wealthy family at sometime during early adulthood. His mother lived just long enough to see her son finish his education before consumption took her. After school, the bank repossessed Hunk's home and he had nowhere to go. Emily, who had been somewhat acquainted with Hunk's mother through church, had heard of his situation and had offered him board in exchange for work. Over the course of a few years, and with Hunk's help, profits began to increase a little, and for a brief time Henry and Emily Long considered adoption. They didn't have to consider it for too long before they received word that they would indeed be getting a child—or rather, inheriting one.<p>

Henry had not known Emily's brother very well, but he did know him to be a decent sort of fellow. He knew precious nothing of his wife, Gwen, or her family. He had not traveled with Emily to their wedding in Topeka, as they could only afford for one of them to go. Since their marriage, the two had never found time to visit the farm either. So even though Henry had toyed with the idea of adopting, he never expected that his mind would be made up for him. A temporary guardian had been assigned to escort Dorothy to the train station nearest to the farm after Durcell died of pneumonia and Gwen—well, Henry didn't even like to talk about what had happened to Gwen. When Emily had taken the carriage to meet their new ward at the train station, Henry spent most of the morning filled with worry. What if she was used to fancy accommodations? What if she didn't like the country? What if she didn't understand what had happened to her parents? Would he and Emily have to explain it to her? Henry had only one brother who had been killed in a riot in their youth. He knew nothing of dealing with children. All at once, Henry decided that he definitely did not want children. When he heard the carriage approach, his heart nearly stopped beating. What came through the door was not what he was expecting. She was a small, sad looking thing. It was obvious that she had been crying, as her little face was so red and puffy that it almost engulfed her bright blue eyes. From that moment on, Henry had given no more thought to "not having a children". He had a child now, and she obviously needed all the care and affection they could give. Smiling, Uncle Henry remembered the first time she smiled, the first birthday she spent with them, their first harvest…

He watched his niece sleep, hoping that she was save from her nightmares and hallucinations. He hoped that she was dreaming pleasant things. He also hoped that the doctor would be mistaken. On both counts his hope was unfortunately misplaced.

* * *

><p><em>Dorothy once again found herself in Oz, though unlike her other dream, her friends were nowhere to be found. She was in a forest. It could have been near the Tin Woodsman's shed, or it could have been the same forest in which she encountered the Cowardly Lion. The location was irrelevant to her though, because all she needed to know was that she was alone. The dark trees curled inwards, blocking out any sunlight that might exist beyond their canopies. Two wispy clouds floated around Dorothy's head. They danced together for a while, then disbanded to either side of her. Dorothy looked towards the cloud to her right, which was red. As she stared the cloud began to morph into a humanoid shape, until at last a woman stood near her. She was without a face, and her body was covered in an ornate red dress. On her feet, ruby slippers glistened. When Dorothy turned to her left, the green cloud also began to take shape. It's body, also faceless, was dressed in purple dress befitting of a royal. On her feet were two silver slippers. Suddenly, she heard barking in the distance. As Dorothy moved to look for the source of the sound, two rabid Winkies broke through the faceless clouds and charged at her. She heard Roman screaming…<em>

Dorothy awoke in a fright, and Uncle Henry was immediately there to calm her. A nurse who had been passing by the room popped her head into the room to assess the situation. Not wanting to be drugged again, Dorothy forced herself to be calm and settled back down. Satisfied, the nurse left. Uncle Henry, who had been snoozing in the chair beside her bed, ordered her to try and sleep some more. Obliging, Dorothy closed her eyes until she heard her Uncle fall back into slumber. She spent the rest of the night thinking, and watched the sun rise through the window beside her bed.

When entered the room later that afternoon, Zeke had already come and gone for a quick visit. He also was forced to report that Toto had not come home yet, though this did not surprise Dorothy. Since the attack, Dorothy had made two conclusions. The first one was that her brave and dear canine friend had perished when the Winkie took him. The other option, which was the one Dorothy clung to more, was that Toto had been taken back to Oz and had somehow escaped.

"Well now Dorothy, you're looking better than you were the last time we met. How is your back feeling?"

"It still throbs, but it doesn't hurt nearly as badly as it did before." Dorothy answered, sitting up in her bed. Uncle Henry had gone to see Zeke out, so it was just the two of them in her hospital room. took this opportunity to question Dorothy some more.

"Well, seeing as you're on the mend and you're a great deal calmer than you were the last time we spoke…"

"You want to talk about the attack again." Dorothy finished flatly.

"Yes, if you don't mind." He smiled, taking a seat by her bed.

"I didn't particularly mind the first time. I did mind the sedative, however." Dorothy quipped, and the laughed.

"You've always had a sense of humor Dorothy." Dorothy raised her brow. What about her tone of voice had made think she was joking?

"Now, about the attack. Could you tell me what you remember, from the beginning please."

"Well, it's quite simple really. Toto had followed me to the dance, so I asked Roman to drive us back home. We were on our way to the car, when someone jumped out from the shadows. I never saw their face. Toto started barking, and the assailant pulled out a knife and cut Roman in the arm. I turned to run for help, and he—I presume it was a male, as it was a big figure—cut me from behind. I guess Toto ran after him and he hasn't returned home since."

"Really? That's interesting. It's not the story you told me before." said in the sort of tone adults use when they're trying to guilt children into telling the truth. Dorothy was unmoved.

"Isn't it? I honestly can't remember what I told you. It's probably because of the sedative."

"Sedatives don't typically cause memory loss, Dorothy."

"Well, I suppose it wasn't a typical situation." sighed in disappointment, clearly unhappy with her for not re-telling the same story she had told a few nights before. Dorothy remembered very well from the months immediately following the twister. He had shown a vested interest in her stories, and Dorothy was glad to have someone to tell them to. However, when she overheard telling her Aunt and Uncle that he wanted to send her to some sort of mental hospital in the city for further study, Dorothy all at once decided that she no longer liked the doctor. She stopped telling him her stories, which seemed to frustrate him greatly. After awhile, he relented and stopped his frequent visits. Every time he came by the school, or Dorothy saw him at Church, he always tried to pry another Oz story out of her.

"Well, seeing as you miraculously forget what you told me, I'll remind you. You claimed that the assailant was a winged monkey called a Wonkie."

"Winkie" Dorothy corrected automatically. Realizing her mistake, she smiled, "I seem to remember that bit. I think I used to tell stories about something like that. As you know, I had a very healthy imagination when I was younger."

"Yes, yes you did. While you were resting, I took the liberty of going to your English teacher and collecting some of your short stories. You have a talent for words, I must confess. I find the story you wrote last year about the 'diamond city' to be very interesting. In it, a young girl is picked up by a rogue wave and carried to a distant land, where she meets a living dummy, a tin soldier, and a cravenly cougar. I especially liked the part where the young girl and her dog—Fido—are kidnapped by the flying lemurs called the Winkles."

Dorothy attempted to hide her pallor, hoping that her ordeal had already rendered her too pale to notice a difference. "Yes, well, I do rather like writing. It's a nice hobby."

"But is it just a hobby Dorothy" probed, and Dorothy titled her head to the side and asked,

"Well, what else would a story be if not a story?"

"What else indeed Dorothy" said, not without bitterness, and Dorothy felt confidant that she had won. Just then, Uncle Henry returned.

"Ah Henry, I was just going to come looking for you. Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?" asked, leading Uncle Henry back into the hall. Dorothy allowed herself a brief smile, before remembering that fate of her beloved dog Toto. _Well_, Dorothy thought, _at least I'll be out of here soon. Then I can go look for Toto myself._

* * *

><p>"Well doc, what's the diagnosis? Are you satisfied that she's okay? Can I take her home now, where she belongs?"<p>

"I'm afraid not Henry—she's far worse than I initially feared."

"What do you mean?" Uncle Henry asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"She's not only telling mad stories, she's lying as well. And from the sound of her voice and the ease in which she created those lies, I'd be willing to wager that she's been doing do for a long time."

"Now wait just a minute—are you accusing me of raising a dishonest child? I'll have you know that Emily and I have done the best by her— "

"Now Henry, I'm not accusing you of anything. She's so good at the lies now, she's even fooled you. I believe that the stress caused by the twister—the memories the storm awoke from her time with her mother—was too much for her fragile mind to handle. She made wild stories to cope with the stress. She turned things that hurt her—like death and fear—into evil witches and people she loved—like you and your wife, and your farmhands—into figures that she loved. She's disassociated herself with reality. I have to admit, she even had me fooled for a while. If I had suspected her condition to be this severe, I would have pressed the issue harder all those years ago."

"So, what are you saying exactly? That she's gone crazy?"

"Crazy is a harsh word Henry. She's merely…confused, and hurt. She never properly learned how to deal with stress. We're lucky Henry, that we've caught this now. If she continued into adulthood with this problem—well, I shudder to think what would happen."

"…so, what do we do?"

"I think you know the answer to that Henry. You and Emily have a very important decision to make." said sternly, and Uncle Henry looked back towards his niece's hospital room door.

"That…is an understatement, doctor."

_What will become of Dorothy? When will the author just get to Oz already? Patience my imaginary readers. Patience…_


	5. Five Goodbyes

_This is the first chapter that does not start with 'the'. WEIRD._

~Chapter 5: Five Goodbyes~

It was not long into the packing process that Dorothy realized that she had very little possessions. A few dresses, a book filled with pressed flowers, and a few trinkets inherited from her parents were all that she had of consequence. So, after she had finished filling her suitcase with all of her belongings, Dorothy spent the rest of the day in her room—pretending to busy. Some of that time was spent crying, some of it was spent fuming, but most of it was spent in contemplation. When she had returned home from the clinic three days ago she was already formulating a plan of attack for her search for Toto. If he was in Oz, as she truly believed he was, then she would have to find some way back. A small portion of her selfishly wished for a tornado. When she thought about the damage it would cause however, she quickly decided that another storm was probably not the best idea. During the week of the dance—a time that seemed so long ago when in actuality it was only a few weeks past—Dorothy remembered seeing a flyer advertising _the Amazing Professor Marvel. _Dorothy had first seen the traveling magician when she had run away from home five years ago. He had been kind to her, and had convinced her that running away was not the action her heart really wanted to take. He had even come to check-up on her after the storm was over, and Dorothy remembered him fondly. She also remembered that the last time he had come to their part of Kansas, he had an air balloon with him. The former Wizard of Oz used an air balloon to travel to Oz, and Dorothy was hoping that she could do the same. That is, until Aunt Em and Uncle Henry had sat her down for "the talk".

It was the middle of the afternoon. Dorothy had arrived home that morning to the cheerful welcomes of Hickory, Zeke, and Auntie Em. At one point during breakfast, when Zeke and Hickory were keeping Dorothy occupied with all the stories of how the farm barely managed to survive during her absence, Uncle Henry pulled Aunt Em aside and whispered something into her ear. Dorothy didn't notice—nor did Hickory and Zeke—but Aunt Em and Uncle Henry took their conversation outside where they wouldn't be overheard.

"We can't send her away Henry—we just can't! She's been through so much already! Do you remember how broken she was when she came to stay with us? It took her weeks to smile, and even longer to laugh. And then there was that terrible storm—and now the attack!"

"I know Emily, I know. But seems to think…well, he thinks that she might really hurt herself if she's left alone. We can't watch her every hour of the day Em. We're just farmers, what do we know about medical care?"

"She doesn't need to be spirited away to a hospital in some big city with no one she knows to help her! She needs her family. She needs—"

"—more than we can give her." Henry finished. Emily's eyes teared, and she removed a handkerchief from her blouse sleeve and began to dab her eyes.

"Henry…I know that you love Dorothy. doesn't…but if you love her, and you think he's right, well…I'll trust you Henry. Part of me hates to do it. Part of me wants to keep her locked in her room and shoot at anyone who tries to enter this house meaning to take her from me. But if you can really say, out of a place of love, that she needs to go to that…that "school", then I'll trust you. But if anything happens to her Henry…"

"I know Emily. You don't have to tell me. I'll strangle myself."

"Not before I get a chance to you won't" Emily asserted, and Henry smiled weakly. She met her husband's eyes and returned a similarly weak smile. Dorothy's laughs came from the house. Putting his arm around her shoulders, Henry and Emily both hoped for the same thing. They hoped that someday—when the whole affair was over, and Dorothy was back with them again—that she would be able to still laugh.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, you're going to send me away?" Dorothy asked, startled by her Aunt and Uncle's announcement. It was after lunch, and Zeke and Hickory were working outside.<p>

"Don't get too upset Dot…"

"Don't get upset?" Dorothy asked incredulously. "How else am I supposed to react when I'm told that I'm going to be sent away to some sort of crazy hospital?"

"It isn't a crazy hospital, Dorothy" Aunt Em corrected. "It's a boarding school that has it's own hospital."

"Yes, for the crazy people!"

"No, not for the crazy people Dorothy. They don't strap you down to beds or put in those awful jackets—they're psychiatrists, and they help young people to cope with stress."

"Psychiatrist is just another way of saying 'doctor for crazy people'" Dorothy said. She could not believe what she was hearing. It was all that 's fault. He had wanted to send her away to his "special" school in the city since she was eleven-years-old.

"Dottie honey, no one thinks that you're crazy…" Uncle Henry began, but Dorothy was quick to interject.

"Don't you? Isn't that what you're saying? Isn't that what would have you believe?"

"Dorothy, is a good man. He's been a doctor in this town for many years. Without him, there wouldn't be a clinic."

"Well that's all well and good, but he isn't calling you crazy, is he? No, it's just me. It's always been me. He's wanted me to go to that 'special school' of his for five-years! Well, I won't go. You can't make me! I'll run away!"

"Dorothy!" Auntie Em sobbed. Dorothy had not threatened to run away since the twister. For the longest time, Aunt Em wouldn't even let Dorothy go to school by herself, afraid that she'd run away again. A part of Dorothy panged with guilt for using a threat she knew would upset her Aunt. Uncle Henry took advantage of the guilt he knew Dorothy would be feeling and said,

"Dottie, you don't really want to do that. Running away won't help anyone—not you, not your aunt, not me. I know that you're upset Dot, but I've made promise that he's to send to right back here the other doctors at that…special school don't think there's anything the matter with you. Because doctors can be wrong. But until then Dot, just please—please just go quietly. Think of it as a vacation—a chance to visit the big city. And since they're bound to find nothing wrong with you over there, why you'll be back before you know it. And hey—maybe Hunk will pay you a visit. The school is in the same city you know. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Dorothy bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She wanted to believe what her Uncle was saying. She wanted to believe that would honor his word and send her back home when the other doctors found nothing wrong with her. She also hoped that she could see Hunk, for she missed him dearly. Hunk would believe her stories about the Winkies. Hunk always believed in her, just like she had always believed in him. So, Dorothy agreed to go, on the condition that they continued to look for Toto while she was gone. She went to her room to pack, and stayed there through dinner. She was unable to sleep, so she spent hours deciding what books she would take with her. She noted that she still had some of Miss Gulch's books, and decided that she'd return them on her way to…well, to whatever awaited her in the city the next day.

* * *

><p>It was a somber morning on the Gale farm. Dorothy had not slept a wink and she suspected that Uncle Henry and Aunt Em hadn't either. At some point—during dinner Dorothy supposed—Zeke and Hickory had been informed that she was going away. If they had been given the full truth of the situation, Dorothy did not know. From their actions, it was hard to tell. They spent the morning making jokes as per usual, though Dorothy suspected that they were doing so to diffuse the situation.<p>

"You know, I've worked here for seven—no wait, make that eight years—and I've never been given a vacation to some fancy city." Zeke commented, taking a bite out of an apple.

"Yeah, well, you're not Dorothy. Dorothy's going to be a star. Why, I bet she won't even want to come back. Some talent scout that's looking for a pretty face will land her some cushy contract. The next thing you know, we'll be seeing you on the big screen. Dorothy Gale—silent picture starlet!" Hickory said playfully, creating a frame with his hands. He placed his hands in front of Dorothy's face and said,

"Come on Miss Gale, give us a smile." Obliging, Dorothy did her best to look somewhat less miserable than she was feeling. A car honk came from outfront, and they all turned towards the window. was waiting. As the Gales could not afford to send Dorothy to Topeka, let alone pay for some special boarding school, had offered to pay for the whole affair. This disturbed Dorothy more than it seemed to bother her Aunt and Uncle. I mean, he really wasn't paying for much—he co-owned the school. Still, Dorothy did not like one bit and found all of his actions to be suspect. Uncle Henry materialized next to Dorothy, having gone to her room to collect her suitcase. The atmosphere of the little kitchen became very grim, and it was obvious to everyone that Aunt Em was trying her hardest not to cry. Dorothy decided to leave her family with a brave face, so she smiled and walked towards the door. Hickory, Zeke, and Uncle Henry followed close behind, and they walked her to the car. While pleasantries were exchanged between Uncle Henry and , Dorothy turned to Zeke and Hickory and forced a smile.

"Well, I'm off to make a name for myself in the big city. I promise to write, even after I've become a star." Zeke smiled and scooped her up into a hug. Hickory, who had been playing the hero all morning, finally let his tears catch up with him. Zeke smacked his friend over the head like a cat swats at a fly, chastising,

"Now why'd you have to go tear up all'a sudden? You don't want Dorothy to be worrying about you while she's trying to enjoy her vacation, do ya?"

"I'm sorry" Hickory sniffed, and Dorothy smiled.

"Oh, that's all right Hickory. You've always had the biggest heart." She said, embracing the man who had been like another uncle to her for most of her life. _Don't cry Tinman_, She thought, _you'll rust_. "Now, don't you worry about me Hickory, Zeke—" she started, looking at each of them in turn, "—I'll be back before you know it, with plenty of good stories to tell. I'll give Hunk your best." Zeke and Hickory gave her a final goodbye before trudging back to the house. The next set of good-byes would be especially painful. Aunt Em had come down to the car while they were talking, and she and Henry stood side-by-side. Looking at pointedly, Aunt Em declared,

"You better not let them do anything to her up their doctor. I may be a Christian woman, but even I have my limits of tolerance."

"Don't worry Emily, she'll be well taken care off. No drugs, no needles, no cages or anything ghastly like that. It's just a school with people for Dorothy to talk to." Dorothy scoffed. Aunt Em continued to glare. , not liking the atmosphere, returned to the driver's seat. Turning to their niece, Uncle Henry and Aunt Em said nothing—only embraced their little girl. Dorothy preferred it that way. She felt that if they had spoken, she would have cried. She could still see her Aunt and Uncle, waiting by the fence, until the motor car at last took them out of sight of the farm.

* * *

><p>A few minutes after the car had traveled out of view of the farm, Dorothy turned to and said,<p>

"I need to make a stop soon."

"I beg your pardon?"

"And again, pardon is not necessary. I borrowed these books from Miss Gulch a few weeks ago, and I want to return them before we get too far away." didn't seem too comfortable with the idea of stopping.

"Well, why don't you just hand them over to me and I'll make sure that she gets them?"

"Oh no, that won't do at all. You're coming to Topeka too, aren't you? And you said you'd be staying at the…_school_ for a while. Who knows when you'd get back around? No, it should be done now, while we're close."

"Well…I suppose it couldn't hurt. But just so you know Miss Gale, I won't tolerate any trickery. No running away when you leave the car, or—"

"" Dorothy said drolly, "don't you think I would have run away _before_ you picked me up?"

"Erm…yes, I suppose you're right. Just a quick stop though" he cautioned, and Dorothy rolled her eyes and replied,

"Naturally"

When they arrived at Miss Gulch's house, insisted on escorting Dorothy to the door. This didn't bother Dorothy—well, not any more than just being around the doctor bothered her. She had promised her Aunt and Uncle that she wouldn't run away, and Dorothy was a person of her word. Miss Gulch answered before Dorothy could knock. Motor cars weren't common in their parts and she naturally must have heard its noisy approach.

"Good afternoon Miss Gulch, I've come to return your books. I believe you know—"

"" Miss Gulch spat, and Dorothy struggled not to laugh. Straightening his jacket, replied,

"It's _Drundle_, Miss Gulch. It's been a while since I've seen you in the clinic…or at Church for that matter."

"That's probably because I don't go to either" Miss Gulch spat. She then returned her attention to Dorothy. "I didn't think that you'd be finished so fast. And why is here with you anyway? Why are there suitcases in your car?"

"Oh…well that's…" Dorothy started, not sure if she should tell the truth. Finally, she decided that there really wasn't any need to keep it a secret. That part of Kansas was so small—everyone would hear about the trip eventually. "Well, I'm being sent to a school that's co-owned by in Topeka. They think I'm crazy you see. I've always preferred the term eccentric myself. And I never got a chance to finish _Mansfield Park_, but I thought that—seeing as I won't be around for a while—I'd better return all of your books now." laughed nervously, obviously displeased that Dorothy had told a less _polite_ version of the truth. Miss Gulch looked Dorothy up and down, then glared at . After another minute of silence, she said,

"I'll get my hat and coat."

"I beg your pardon?" asked, and Dorothy mused to herself, _he certainly does beg for pardons a lot_. Turning to face , Miss Gulch stuck her finger in his face and said accusatorily,

"You're damn right you need my pardon. The impropriety! A grown man alone with a young girl for what's sure to be a six—no, seven hour drive to the train station, and then a two-hour train ride to the city? It's indecent! People passing by might think you do be come type of common rake, taking advantage of a poor little girl. I can't believe Emily even let you go alone with her niece! Well, it's a good thing she has me looking out for her. Now wait here, and I'll get my coat. You can come inside Dorothy. You know where the books go." Dorothy smiled brightly, and was bright red with anger. Looking back of her shoulder, Dorothy waved to as she skipped inside of the house. The look on his face was almost worth the trip that she had to take. ALMOST.

Dorothy walked into Miss Gulch's library—which was bigger even than their town library—and found Ruth waiting inside. Shocked, she stood in silence for a few minutes before exclaiming,

"Ruth!" Ruth jumped in surprise and echoed,

"Dorothy! Wh—what are you—how did you—when did you?"

"Is Roman feeling any better?" Dorothy asked, ignoring her friend's questions.

"Erm…yes, he's been in good humor about the whole thing. Mostly he's been worried about you. He…well, we tried to see you in the clinic but …"

" what?" Dorothy frowned. Ruth looked down at her feet. Dorothy took a step closer, and noted that Ruth took a step back instinctively.

"Ruth?"

"He…he said that you'd gone crazy with shock. That you were saying all sorts of things…crazy things. And Melanie Franklyn…"

"What about Melanie Franklyn?" Dorothy demanded, upset that had been talking to her only school friends behind her back.

"Well, her older sister is a nurse at the clinic and she says…well, she thinks that you were the one who attacked Roman." Ruth, eyes wet, could scarcely meet Dorothy's penetrating stare. Infuriated, Dorothy replied,

"Since when have we ever cared about what Melanie Franklyn—or any Franklyn for that matter—said? How could you even—you don't believe a word of it. Tell me you don't."

"Well…"

"Well what?" Dorothy demanded. It took all of her self-control to keep from yelling.

"It's just that…no one else saw anybody. The police never found a weapon. No one heard anything until you started to scream. The last person that Roman remembers seeing was you…"

"Well then, if Melanie Franklyn's sister is so brilliant, would you kindly ask her to explain to you how I gashed my **own** back open? Or what happened to Toto? Regardless, I can't even believe that you would consider that rubbish. Does Roman share yours and Nurse Frankenstein's opinion?"

"No. He thinks it's stupid. He called it rubbish too." Ruth mumbled. Just then, Miss Gulch reappeared, adorned in her traveling hat and wearing her traveling coat. Looking at the two young women, she declared,

"I'll be in the car Dorothy. Come as soon as you've finished up here."

When Miss Gulch left, Dorothy noticed that Ruth was trying to sneak away. The way that Ruth looked at her…Sighing, Dorothy spoke. Her voice caused Ruth to jump.

"I'm hurt beyond words that you'd ever consider such a thing to be true—and that's saying a lot, seeing as I'm supposed to be a _Madame Dicitionaire_. I know we haven't known each other too long, but I liked to think that you knew me well enough to realize that a story like that is complete hogwash. I'm going to Topeka now. I might be there for a while—maybe even forever. This may be the last time I ever see you. And as much as the hurt in my heart might want me to, I'm not going to leave you with hurtful words to remember me by. So, thanks for being my friend Ruth. Thanks for teaching me how to dance, thanks for sitting with me at lunch, and thanks for sticking up for me. Goodbye."

And at that, Dorothy Gale turned her back on her first female friend. She did not cry, as she had been very good about not crying that morning. She climb into the back of the car(Miss Gulch had taken her place in the passenger seat), and did not look back.

_Oz will come soon my pretties. It will get all ya'll and your little dogs too. Or cats. It doesn't really discriminate. It would probably take a ferret too. _


	6. The Train, the School, and the Roommate

~Chapter 6: The Train, the School, and the Roommate~

Miss Gulch had traveled with them until the train station—which was a whopping seven hours. Dorothy didn't mind. In fact, she was grateful. She didn't like to be alone with , and Miss Gulch's constant put downs of the doctor were endlessly entertaining. When they did finally reach the station, a nephew of was waiting for them. He was also a doctor—fresh out of medical school—and would drive 's car back to town and take over for him as physician. He was also instructed to take Miss Gulch back to her house. A part of Dorothy hoped that Miss Gulch would want to come with them all the way to Topeka, but she did not. After all, what would she have done? Gone all the way to Topeka, re-boarded the train and ride back to the station, only to have no ride back home? No, Miss Gulch and her abrasive wit would not be accompanying Dorothy and to Topeka. _At least there are other people on the train_, thought Dorothy. 's nephew—a young man named Steven—opened the door for Dorothy and smiled. She might have considered him handsome if her thoughts were not so wrapped up with worries about her future. He loaded her bag into the train compartment for her, all the while trying to make conversation.

"You know, the way my uncle described you I would have thought you a little girl. But you must be at least eighteen."

"I'm sixteen actually"

"Really?" He smiled, "you look older to me."

"Funny—usually people tell me how young I look for my age." Dorothy replied, only partially paying attention.

"I don't see it. You have an intelligence about you that makes you seem very mature. As a matter of fact, if I had seen you on one of the lady's campuses, I would not have questioned it."

"Hmm…" Dorothy replied, not very interested in the conversation. called his nephew over, leaving Dorothy alone. She was not alone for long however, before Miss Gulch appeared next to her. She thrust a bag at Dorothy and—surprised—Dorothy accepted. Before she could say anything, Miss Gulch cut in,

"No thanks or anything. It makes me uncomfortable. I didn't like these ones anyway. My sister gave them to me, and she's never had good taste in books. But they might suit your interests and if not—well, you can use them for ammunition."

"Ammunition?" Dorothy giggled

"Well, you have to have something to fight back with. And if they declare you to be crazy well—then you ought to take advantage of the situation and do something a little crazy."

The train whistled, and Miss Gulch and Steven left Dorothy and in their compartment. smiled. Dorothy frowned. Sensing that he would not get any worthwhile conversation out of his traveling companion, went to mingle with the few other passengers that were also on the train. Relieved that she'd been left to her own thoughts, Dorothy opened the bag that Miss Gulch had given her. It contained three books: _Alice in Wonderland, The Snow Queen_, and _The Princess and the Goblin_. They were all children's stories. Dorothy smiled.

* * *

><p>The train ride had not lasted as long as Dorothy had expected it to. It was not long until the city came into view, and Dorothy was in awe. Not as much in awe a she might have been if she were visiting the city by choice but in awe none the less. When they exited the train and their bags were transferred to their private car, took advantage of Dorothy's speechlessness to comment on every building they happened by.<p>

"Topeka was chartered as a city in 1857. Now, the word _Topeka _is a native word meaning, 'to dig good potatoes'. This was naturally in reference to the land's fertility and the ability of the farmers to grow good potatoes."

"Naturally"

"That rather ornate looking building over there is Washburn University" said as the car came to a stop at an intersection. It was definitely ornate compared the one school in Dorothy's town.

"Does it have a large library?" Dorothy asked, and seemed eager to answer her questions. It was the first real conversation they had had since the clinic.

"Oh yes—far larger than any library you've seen I'll wager. Why, the last I heard it the library houses over 20,000 books."

"20,000?" Dorothy asked incredulously.

"Oh yes—quite an impressive number." said smugly. Obviously, he had a lot of pride in Topeka. That and in his knowledge of Topeka. "My little school has a fair sized library too I must admit—though students have to earn the right to use it."

"How do you mean, _earn _the right?" Dorothy frowned.

"Well, I don't want to spoil too much of the tour, but as you seem to be very fond of books it might be best to tell you sooner than later. Students at this school, like you, have difficulty coping with stress. Some have invented their own worlds, some have acted out with violence, others merely come from un-supportive or abusive households. Classes are only held four days of the week, as our student body is very small and our teachers very adept. Students are required to meet with a counselor two days of the week. During the free time that students have, they may peruse a variety of hobbies. Naturally, we want to encourage socialization above everything else. However, for the students who pass certain social aptitude tests, activities that might be considered anti-social—such as reading—are permitted. But now, no more questions about the school for here we are!"

Dorothy looked out of the window. The building they had stopped in front of was made of red bricks and had it's own security gate. When the guard recognized , he opened the gate and let their car in. Beyond the gate was a courtyard, which led to two large oak doors. It looked as though the building had at least thirty rooms, which was more than Dorothy had seen in her life. It was also three-stories, which as taller than any building Dorothy had seen before. The driver removed Dorothy's bag from the trunk, and Dorothy moved to collect it. Before she could, an attendant appeared from the building and collected it for her.

"It's mandatory for all bags to be checked upon arrival. We don't want our patients to bring any…items that could harm themselves or their fellow students." explained. She had been allowed to keep the book bag Miss Gulch had given her however. led Dorothy inside where three women and a short, older gentleman were waiting.

"Dorothy, I would like to introduce you to some people you will get to know very well during your stay. This beautiful woman to my right is Matilda Frey, the head nurse." The woman identified as Matilda Frey wore her hair tightly pinned back. Her dress was black and high-collared, and Dorothy thought that she looked very stern. Going down the line, introduced the three remaining people.

"And here is Penny George, the librarian. To her left is Parker and Sheldon, the school's counselors. Usually, students are assigned only one counselor. In your case however, I thought it best that you benefit from both of their skills for the time being."

"Well, so long as you're looking out for _my _benefit." Dorothy said coolly, and the two counselors exchanged a knowing look. This irritated Dorothy, who felt that they had neither the experience nor the right to know anything about her. The rest of the tour was fairly boring. She was shown where the library was, but was not allowed entrance. She was shown where the cafeteria was, where she could hear students conversing quietly. She was not allowed to enter the cafeteria either. She was shown where to find each of her tour guide's offices, and was encouraged to visit them for any of her needs. Dorothy asked whom to visit to get a train ticket home. They were not amused. Dorothy was shown the location of the classrooms, and was introduced to two teachers whose names she forgot almost immediately after meeting them. Finally, the group disbanded and Dorothy was left with Matilda Frey.

"Here—" she started, handing Dorothy a thick booklet, "—is the school manual. In it you'll find all of our rules and regulations, as well as our expectations for student behavior. We understand that students who attend this school are—troubled, but there are some rules that absolutely cannot be broken. There is no smoking, no drinking, and no young men allowed outside of the chaperoned visiting room. If you are feeling unwell, you inform me immediately. No students are allowed to leave the campus grounds for the first two months. After the probation period has ended, whether or not you are allowed to leave—chaperoned of course—will depend upon your behavior. Do you understand?"

"I think you've made your point with adequate clarity." Dorothy replied, and Miss Frey pursed her lips.

"While a sassy tone is not against the rules, you will find that rudeness is not respected or awarded here. And you will take care to always address me as Nurse Frey."

"I hereby state for the record, and in front of a witness, that I understand that my sassy tone will not earn me any merits, Nurse Frey." Dorothy said mechanically, and Nurse Frey merely sneered.

"You will follow me now. I am to show you to your room"

* * *

><p>Dorothy had been left alone in her room, though she suspected that Nurse Frey had not gone too far. A clock that was nailed to the wall told Dorothy that it was already four in the afternoon. Because it was fall, the sun would be setting quicker than usual. Already, Dorothy could see some darkness creeping into the sky through the bedroom's lone window. There were two beds in the room, and Dorothy noted that one side of the room looked very lived in. She deduced that she had a roommate, and was not looking forward to the company. Her trunk had been returned. It had obviously been tampered with. Dorothy decided to check the damage, and found that her books, even the book with her pressed flowers, had been confiscated. One of those books had been a Christmas present from Hunk, who had bought it in the city. Dorothy kicked her luggage in frustration.<p>

"Oh joy—a violent crazy"

Dorothy jumped at the voice. It had come from the doorway. Turning to find the source, Dorothy was met with the critical stare of a very nasty looking girl. Something about her reminded Dorothy of Melanie Franklyn. It wasn't long until this similarity was verified.

"What, crazy can't speak? You came from a farm, right? Do they not teach their children how to read in the sticks?"

"No" Dorothy smiled. "They're too busy teaching us how to cook squirrels, chew hay, and chase cows."

"Oh, a sarcastic crazy." Dorothy was surprised that the girl knew what the word _sarcastic _meant.

"Well, if you have to be any type of crazy, you might as well be sarcastic."

The girl scoffed and removed her jacket. She was wearing what Dorothy assumed to be the school's uniform. The logo had the initials D.I. Dorothy realized that she did not know what the school was called. Given the temperament of her roommate, Dorothy decided to ask someone else later.

"So, do you have a name crazy?"

"It's Dorothy. Dorothy Gale" the girl snorted. Dorothy frowned and asked,

"And I assume you're just known as Cranky?"

"I'm Penelope Varnes, and this is my side of the room. Don't touch my bed, don't touch my trunk, and leave the closet alone. Don't wake-me up in the morning, and don't expect me to show you around or take you on as my buddy."

"I expected nothing more than what you've already offered" _Rudeness, _Dorothy clarified mentally.

Just then, a knock came at the door. A female attendant deposited a new uniform for Dorothy onto her bed. She supposed they must have gauged her size from the dresses in her trunk. Attached to her dress was a schedule, which listed Dorothy's first activity of the next day—which was Saturday—to be an appointment with . Afterwards, she was to have a physical exam with Nurse Frey, a meeting with , and finally a meeting with . The following day she was to be given an aptitude test to discern her level in school. She was then given a 'scheduled social session' to be chaperoned by . By the looks of it, her whole life was being planned for her. Despite what had said, she had very little time for hobbies, and most of her hobbies had been chosen for her. _Great_. A bell rang, and Dorothy assumed that it was the dinner bell. Her roommate did not bother to wait for her to change into her uniform, so Dorothy made her way to the cafeteria by herself. Already, she could tell that it would be a long,** long** stay. Suffice to say she wasn't looking forward to it.

The cafeteria accommodated just under twenty-five students. All were dressed in the same drab gray uniform as Dorothy. Unsure of where to sit, Dorothy sat at one of the vacant tables. Most of the girls did not seem to want to sit next to each other, as there were large gaps in between the seats. Very little talking was done, and the conversations that were made were whispered. A tray was set before Dorothy, and Penny George—the librarian—sat across from her. The fact that she worked for 's little crazy school aside, she seemed like a fairly decent person. But then, Dorothy liked anyone who worked around books.

"Hello Dorothy. I don't know if you remember but—"

"You're Penny George, the librarian. I remember" Dorothy said, and Penny smiled.

"Well, I hear that you like to read and write. sent ahead some of your school stories, and I've had the chance to read them. They are very well written. Tell me, who are your favorite authors?"

"Oh…well, let's see. It's very hard to choose. For poetry, I have to say that I really like William Blake and Anne Bradstreet. As novelists go, I'm really partial to anything written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, George MacDonald, and Tabitha Tenney."

"Oh—I just adore _The Female Quixotism_. I must say, I haven't met very many people who have read it."

Dorothy smiled, glad to talk about anything other than her mental state. "Well, I was fortunate enough to have a neighbor who let me borrow from her considerably large personal library. She owns works from many female authors. Before I…well, before I was 'escorted' here by , I was in the middle of reading _Mansfield Park_ by Jane Austen."

"How did you find it?" Penny asked. It was becoming clear to Dorothy that the librarian did not have many people with which to discuss books.

"Well, I unfortunately was not given the chance to finish it. However, what I did read I rather liked. It was a nice change from _Emma_, which is the only other Austen I've read."

"Oh—you mean you haven't read _Pride and Prejudice_?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. Is it very good?"

"Oh it's just wonderful!" Penny gushed. "It's witty and terribly romantic—but not in a cliched manner. We have a copy in the library—you should borrow it in your free time. I'd love to hear someone else's thoughts about it. Nurse Frey doesn't read such books. She considered them to be 'childish'."

From Penny's tone, Dorothy came to the conclusion that the librarian and the head nurse did not get along. This, to Dorothy, meant that she and the librarian would most certainly get along.

"I'd love to—only, I'm told that I have to 'earn the right' to read."

"Oh well—no matter dear. That's only for the under socialized girls, and you seem plenty socialized to me."

After dinner had concluded—Dorothy didn't really pay attention to what it was she had eaten—the curfew bell was rung and all of the girls pilled back to their dormitories. and Nurse Frey made sure that no one strayed behind the pack. Penny wished Dorothy a goodnight, and Dorothy was sad to see her go. By the time she had reached her room, her roommate was already getting ready for bed. The two didn't speak, and Dorothy changed out of her uniform after the light had been turned out. Overall, the school had not been quite the asylum she thought it to be. Dorothy also knew that things weren't always what they appeared to be. Resigning herself to her situation, Dorothy went to bed vowing that she would do her best to act as sane as possible in the coming weeks. After all, she'd be crazy not to.

_Dorothy stood at a fork in the road. The bricks below her feet changed colors so often that she could not discern what their original color was. There were two routes before her, and they faded into darkness after a while. Down one road, she could hear singing. Down the other, crying. Dorothy decided to walk the road that held tears instead of joy. She remember that she too had been lost on a brick road before. If someone had not thought to help her, the witch could have caught her with ease. So naturally Dorothy felt that she needed to find the source of the crying in order to help the poor creature's suffering. She could not see far before her, as the darkness was ever looming. New bricks appeared with each step she took and after a while Dorothy could no longer remember how many steps or turns she had taken. The crying grew louder, and her pace quickened. At last, a figure emerged. A form was kneeling on the ground. Dorothy instinctively knew that it was a young girl. A girl whose head was trapped inside a cage and whose face was blurred and undefined. She held her hands up in pain, and Dorothy gasped as she realized that they were covered in blood and shards of glass. _

"_Help me!" the girl cried, her voice hoarse and raw. Dorothy began to run to her, but was unable to make any ground. No matter how fast she ran, the girl stayed at the same distance from her. Arms reached out of the darkness and pulled Dorothy back into the shadows. Before she was engulfed completely, Dorothy heard the girl scream one final time,_

"_You must help me Dorothy! Help me!"_

Dorothy Gale woke in a start. It was morning, and the first bell was ringing. Penelope groaned, unaware of the fear that bathed her roommate's face. It was a new day. It was the first day of hell.

_There were some random facts about Kansas in this chapter, curtsey of Wikipedia. If any Kansas dwellers read this and find inaccuracies, please forgive my lack of geographic knowledge. Doesn't remind you of a certain doctor from a certain Oz movie? Hmm…interesting. _


	7. Crack Therapy

~Chapter 7: Crack Therapy~

Dorothy's fist week had elapsed in the blink of an eye. This was partly due to the repetitive nature of her schedule. Her first week was almost entirely dedicated to what Dorothy had come to call, "crack therapy" sessions. and had taken turns with her and it was almost as if they were spotting each other—like two boxers tag-teaming a world champion. For Dorothy was indeed a champion at telling them everything but the things that they wanted to hear. It had not taken Dorothy long to discover that the promise had made to her Uncle about deferring to his partner's diagnoses had been a lie. In truth, and were not 's equals, but rather his lackeys. He instructed them on what topics to discuss with patients and on what illness he believed them to have. That morning's session with had been particularly telling. It had begun, as always, with the generic "how do you do" questions.

"So Dorothy, how are you feeling this morning?" asked, her pen and notebook at the ready. Both and had tried to convince Dorothy to lay down on the couch during their sessions, but Dorothy refused. It made her uncomfortable, knowing that someone was towering over her. And besides, she had few chances in which to be downright contrary. Therefor, the chances she was afforded she did not squander.

"Very much the same as yesterday—and the day before that. And you, ?" Dorothy asked, all politeness.

"I'm fine thank you. Now Dorothy, shall we begin?"

"I suppose we shall , though I would like to ask you a question."

"Yes, Dorothy?"

"By 'begin', do you mean to say that we're going to go over the same routine that we've been going over for the past week?"

"Routine?" laughed, adjusting her glasses. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is precisely what I said doctor. You ask me how I am, I say I'm fine, I ask you how you are, you say you're fine. Then you ask if we should begin. Afterwards, you always ask the same questions and I give the same answers. You ask if I'd like to talk about one of my short stories, and I say 'not really'. You talk about one anyway—the same one, mind you, everytime. You ask me about the short story I wrote called _The Wonderful World of Zo_. We chat for a little while about the writing process and how it makes me **feel**, and then you ask me about the stories I used to tell when I was a child. I say, 'what stories' and you say, 'the stories about Oz'. I say, 'oh yes, those stories'. You pretend to be excited, hoping that you'll make a breakthrough. However, I tell you that I hardly remember those stories, and that I don't really want to talk about them because they bore me. We spend the rest of the session making small talk, and then I'm dismissed."

"Well…that certainly is a thorough accounting. You have a very good memory Miss Gale. So good in fact, that I'm sure if you really tried you could remember some of the stories you used to tell."

"Ah, but that was years ago you see, and my capacity to remember was not as good as it is now." Dorothy smiled, once again all politeness. Dr. Park sighed.

"Very well Dorothy. You're right, I am getting tired of repeating the same scenario. So, why don't we talk about what you want to talk about today." Dorothy blinked, surprised. She hadn't expected to actually win.

"Oh, well…I don't know what I want to talk about. I really didn't expect you to ask, to be honest."

"Dorothy, therapy isn't an interrogation. It's meant to be a place for a person to express themselves without fear or judgement. I know that, in light of where you are and how you came to be here, it might seem like some sort of prison. But it really is just a place for meditation, and for good conversation. Now then, is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Well…I suppose there is something. I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt to talk about it. It's in 's file of me I'm sure. As you probably know, my parents both of died pneumonia when I was very little. I hardly remember anything about them, but for the longest time that was okay. I had the best Aunt and Uncle any girl could ask for. In honesty, I actually had four uncles. And they were all good to me."

"You're parents _both _died of pneumonia?" asked, consulting her notebook. "Even your mother?"

"Yes, so I was told. But like I said, I really don't remember much about either of them. And I hadn't thought much about my mother until…well, it's been about a month now I suppose. I learned that her parents had lived in the city—this city, as a matter of fact. But my Aunt and Uncle could never get in contact with them, and they apparently never came looking."

"And does this bother you?"

"Well, a little bit I suppose. Not too terribly, but it does strike me as odd. It's just—if you had a granddaughter somewhere out in the world, wouldn't you at least call after her health from time to time? I suppose it doesn't matter though. I really couldn't have asked for a better life."

"Really? Even with the twister?" _Oh lord, she's turned the conversation back to Oz_. Dorothy leaned forward and gave a very pointed look.

"Come now doctor, I'm not that slow witted"

"No, I suppose you aren't. You can't blame a girl for trying though, can you?"

As a matter of fact, Dorothy could. Instead, she let the matter drop and they spent the rest of the session talking about grandparents. Once or twice, tried to turn the conversation back to Oz but Dorothy had caught onto her little ploy. Before the session was over, informed Dorothy that she was required to meet in his office. Dorothy was far from pleased. When the lunch bell rang, Dorothy was not chatting it up with Penny George in the cafeteria like she had every day for the past week. Instead, she was sitting in a large armchair in the office of .

"Ah, Dorothy, Good afternoon. And how are you today?" asked. Presumably, he had just come back from an errand as his outdoor coat was still on.

"Oh, the same as I've been for the past week." Unlike , Dorothy did not even pretend to care how was.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that Dorothy" said, feigning genuine concern. "I had hoped that you would find yourself much improved in spirits after a week"

"Yes well, I had hoped that your staff would confirm that there is nothing wrong with me and that I'd be on my way home by now. It appears to be a bad month for hoping."

"Yes indeed" frowned. After a few moments of silence, he pulled a file from a cabinet near his desk.

"The results of you're aptitude test have come back. You'll be pleased to know that you've tested very well in all categories—above average, in fact, in English and Latin. I've instructed your teachers to give you more challenging work, as you'll find that the classes for the other girls in your year aren't quite up to your level yet. Social disorders often lead to poor performance in classes, and I'm relieved to know that you haven't suffered academically from your…coping issues."

"Frankly doctor, I fail to see where my alleged 'coping' issues have had a tremendous effect on my life. Seeing as it is _my _life, you'd think I would have noticed by now if it had."

"Not necessarily Dorothy" smiled. There was something about his manner that struck Dorothy as condescending. This wasn't new exactly, as she had learned through her observations of the school that he spoke down to almost everyone.

"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it. Now, if we're all done here, I really am hungry…" Dorothy started—prepared to leave. raised his hand, issuing for her to stay seated.

"I've ordered for your lunch to be brought to my office Dorothy. It should be here soon. In the meantime, let's talk." sat down behind his desk, so he could directly face Dorothy.

"About?"

"Oz, Dorothy. Oz."

"I don't know what you are talking about, ." Dorothy said flatly.

"Yes, you do Dorothy. You've known during all of your sessions with and . You've known since the clinic. You've known since you were eleven-years-old. You know precisely what I'm talking about my dear. And today, we're going to talk."

"…I was led to understand that the contents of a therapy session were kept private, known only to the patient and their therapist. I suppose this does not hold true in your…school." Dorothy said coolly. Since coming to school, she had noticed a change in 's personality. He no longer pretended to be nice. The real was rearing its head.

"I am the therapist in this school, Dorothy. Everyone here is my patient. and are merely my mediators. Nothing is kept confidential from me. I can't help people who keep secrets. And you're keeping many secrets my dear." That was the second time he had referred to her as 'my dear'. Dorothy did not like it at all.

"Very well. If you won't talk, then you'll listen." Turning his chair around, opened a wall safe that had been hidden behind a painting. He removed from it a leather bound journal. Getting to his feet, paced around the room, flipping pages. When he found what he was looking for, he began to read:

"Gale log 12

It's been two months since the twister and as always, the subject has a story to tell. Unlike a typical child, she does not embellish her stories. They do not change upon the retelling, or contradict each other. They are precise and accurate, like a strong memory. This indicates that the subject's belief in the validity of her stories is equal to that of her real-world memories. She speaks of her last moments in the land she calls Oz. This is rare for her, as it seems to cause her sadness. In the story, she talks of slaying an evil witch with only a bucket full of water. In psychology, this could suggest a fear of water. However, she is not afraid of the rain, or of taking baths. After destroying the witch she and her friends—a man made of straw, a woodsman made out of tin, and a talking lion—return to the place known as Emerald City. There, they are each rewarded for their efforts. The straw man is given the intelligence he seeks, the tin man is given a heart, and the lion is given courage. Finally, the little girl is granted a way home. When the wizard, a man who is in truth an ordinary man from Omaha, tries to take Dorothy back to her Kansas with his air balloon, it took off without her. Just when all seems lost, the beautiful witch named Glinda appears to tell Dorothy that she possessed the means to go home all along. The shoes that adorn her feet—stolen from an evil witch—possess the magic to grant the wearer's truest desire. She clicks her heels three times, and home she returns."

closed his book with a snap, standing behind Dorothy. She jumped a little at the sound, and hoped he didn't notice.

"Now then, does that stir up any memories, hmm?"

"No, not particularly" Dorothy managed, her throat dry. Her stomach growled, and she hoped that their little session would soon be interrupted by whoever was supposed to deliver lunch. However, what Dorothy said earlier was true. It was not a good month for hoping. made his way in front of Dorothy's chair, and leaned back onto his desk. Dorothy straightened, hoping to look as tall as her petite stature allowed.

"Very well then. Shall I talk about you mother?"

"I already told that I—"

"Silence, Dorothy!" interrupted. It was the first time he had raised his voice. Bravely, Dorothy though, _It will take a lot more than a loud voice to scare me_.

"It is my time to talk, not yours. You've had plenty of chances to talk. Now then, you seem to under the impression that your mother died of pneumonia. Is that what your Aunt Emily told you before she tucked you in at night? Is that what she told she when she came to pick you up at the station? Hmm? Well, my dear, you have been lied to. You've been lied to for your own protection. However, it is protection that you don't need. You see, I believe that you've been coddled for too long. You've been allowed to behave how you wish, allowed to lie without any consequence. You're so far into your lies that only the truth will bring you back. You see, the twister you were trapped in when you were eleven was not your first experience with a twister."

paused for dramatic effect before continuing.

"For you see, after your father died of pneumonia—for that is the only part of the story you've been told that is true—your mother, for reasons unknown, gathered her four-year-old daughter, hastily packed a suitcase, and paid a cab to take her as far as he could. After being left on the outskirts of the city, she began to walk with her daughter into the brush. While she was walking however, in those dry Kansas plains, a twister formed. It was not as large as your _Oz_ twister, though it was large enough still to kill more than a handful of unsuspecting people. And kill, it did. Your mother just managed to find a house with a storm shelter and a family willing to take her and her child in. She handed you into the nice couple first but, before she could enter the shelter, the doors blew shut. Do you know what happened next?"

Dorothy shook her head, too shell shocked to reply.

"I didn't think so" he smiled. "After the storm had finished, the couple found your mother's lifeless body in the plains. She had been killed by some passing debris. I heard it was a gruesome sight actually. Apparently, impaling was involved. The rest as you know it—or rather, as you didn't know it—is history. The couple informed the authorities, you were identified as the daughter of a Durcell Gale and sent to live in the sticks of Kansas."

Dorothy swallowed hard. A knock came at the door, and Nurse Frey arrived with a lunch trey. _Where were you two minutes ago, _Dorothy thought miserably.

"Ah Nurse Frey. There had been a change of plans. Miss Gale is to take lunch in her room, as well as every other meal, for the next week. She is to have her school work sent to her, and it is to be picked-up at the end of every other school day. All free time will be spent in her room, unless she decides that she would like to talk to , , or myself. If she does not handle this probation well, she shall be confined again for an additional week.

"Very good, . Miss Gale, if you'll follow me."

The fight drained out of her, Dorothy complied. She did not remember eating her lunch. She did not remember the numerous times in which Penelope came and went from the room. She hardly registered the dinner bell, or the tray that was brought to her. Dorothy Gale had just learned a terrible thing in a terrible way. She did not blame her Aunt and Uncle for not telling her, for who could want to tell a child that? When she had first read the play _Oedipus Rex_, Dorothy felt confidant that no matter how gruesome, she would always want to know the truth. But now, in her heart of hearts, Dorothy knew that she could have gone the rest of her life not knowing the real fate of her mother. She could have gone the rest of her life without wondering why. Why were they out there in the first place? Why had her mother run away after her father's death?

When Penelope retired for the night and turned off the light, Dorothy was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. It was then, in the comfort of the dark, that she allowed herself to cry. What followed were tears that she had been holding back for over a week. The tears that she had not cried when she left the farm, the tears that she had not shed when she said goodbye to Ruth, and the tears that she had not cried when she stayed awake missing home came out all at once. Lying down, Dorothy pressed her face into her pillow. She did not want Penelope to hear her crying. She did not want to give anyone at that cursed school the satisfaction.

_For the first time since coming to 's school for the troubled, Dorothy Gale did not have a nightmare. Instead, she had a very, very good dream. It had started with her last moments of consciousness before she fell asleep. She was in her room, crying into her pillow, worrying about waking her cynical roommate. She felt lost, and confused. She was angry that had the power to make her cry. She was angry that he knew—and had known for all those years—something so important about her. She missed her home, she missed her family, and she missed her friends. ALL of her friends. Just then, as her grief was ready to overwhelm her, Dorothy felt a warm hand against her back. With it, she heard a voice say,_

"_You are not alone"_

_More hands pressed against her back, and more voices chimed,_

"_You are not alone"_

_Eventually, there were so many hands against her back that Dorothy no longer felt cold, or scared, or even sorrowful. _

"_You are not alone"_

"_I am not alone" Dorothy thought, triumphant. **I am not alone**._


	8. Rubicund Curse

_AN:Thank you to anyone who has managed to keep with this story for so long(as these chapters are written in advanced, I'm just going to operate under the optimistic view that someone will review **eventually**). For someone looking for instant Oz goodness, I imagine that I can be a pretty hard author to follow. I'm slow to build up to things. Hopefully, once said things happen, you'll feel satisfied and not let down. I think you—my imaginary readers—might find this chapter to be particularly interesting. *blatant foreshadowing*_

~Chapter 8:Rubicund Curse~

Her first day of probation had been filled with contemplation. Refreshed from her good dream, Dorothy was able to think clearly about the revelation made in yesterday's visit to 's office. She had never been too interested in her parents. To some, this might have seemed odd. But she had lost them at such a young age and—as yesterday revealed—in such a traumatic way, it only made sense that Dorothy's developing mind would have tried it's best to steer clear of such a delicate issue. She knew plenty about Aunt Em's childhood—more so than her father's. She could tell you the birthdays of all of her uncles, as well as their fondest childhood memories and their first crushes. She could tell you plenty about her friends in Oz too—though she seldom spoke about them aloud—especially in light of her current situation. But of her parents, Dorothy had known little and had asked little. It had just never mattered to her that much. It was almost like being expected to care about some stranger from history. Unless they did something marvelous, committing them to memory could be very trying. Why, up until yesterday, Dorothy had learned more from 's speech on the history of Topeka than she had of her parents all of her life. Up until yesterday, everything was just a tad simpler.

Dorothy had woken before the morning bell. In the wee small hours of the morning, she had been granted some much-needed solitude. Penelope's breathing was soft and rhythmic. Asleep, she almost seemed pleasant. But then, Dorothy supposed that Penelope's rude behavior wasn't entirely her fault. Last week, during one of their rare conversations, Dorothy learned that Penelope had been at the school for a while.

"So, have they taken you _downstairs_ yet?" Penelope asked. Dorothy had learned during their brief acquaintanceship that if any conversation was to be had, it was always Penelope who started it and always Penelope who finished. With only Penny George to talk to, Dorothy welcomed even her cross roommate's conversations. She had not realized how much she used to talk to Toto. Without him, she found herself incredibly lonely.

"Downstairs?" Dorothy asked, looking up from folding her laundry. Penelope propped her legs up on Dorothy's bed, smirking.

"You know—the _hospital_."

"No, I wasn't shown a hospital in the tour." Dorothy said, suddenly interested in the conversation. Seeing that she had Dorothy's full attention, Penelope flipped over onto Dorothy's bed. As a rule, Dorothy was not allowed to inhabit Penelope's side of the room. Penelope, however, went wherever she pleased.

"Oh, they never show students the _hospital _on the first day. Unlike you, most students are given the tour with their parents—or their legal guardians. So naturally, Nurse Diabolical and her brainless minions couldn't give the _real tour_. They give the superficial tour in order to ease the mind of the families who deposit their daughter's into this hellhole."

"Then…you've seen the hospital?"

"Of course!" Penelope scoffed. "We all do eventually. Some of us more quickly than others. You see, this school is just a front. We're labrats hon, intended for experiments from your worst nightmares. Frankly, given the _commotion_ that was made before your arrival, I'm shocked that they didn't haul you down there right away. You know—no witnesses."

"Commotion? What commotion? I didn't even know I was coming until three-days before I left."

Penelope smiled with a sick satisfaction. "Oh, you were always slated to come hon. They've had your name in the books for a few months."

"How do you know about this? I didn't take Nurse Frey or to be the type of people who just announce such things to their students."

"Oh, they don't. They don't even tell us the month or the day. We don't know when to celebrate our birthdays, or when to carve pumpkins. But me and the other girls—those of us who have been here longest—we have our ways. Not to mention the fact that you were all they were talking about two weeks ago—some girl from way out in the Kansas dead lands. I heard them talking about you, late at night. I like to stay up and listen to our little asylum sometimes. It keeps me informed. According to them, you are some kind of crazy. So that's why I'm surprised that you haven't even seen the hospital."

Dorothy bit her lower lip in thought. had told Auntie Em before he took her away that there would be no cages, or needles. Once again, had lied. Penelope continued,

"You know, I've been here two years, and I ain't never seen anyone given two counselors. I've also never seen a student meet with Dr.D more than once in one week."

"Yes, well, I'd prefer if I had never met that pompous, lecherous old creep."

"Oh ho! So crazy does have a mean streak!" Penelope exclaimed, lying down on her stomach and facing Dorothy with her usual crazy eyes. When they weren't crazy with anger, they were crazy with some sort of bizarre delight.

"The right people inspire the right emotions." Dorothy growled, throwing her newly folded laundry into her trunk. Slamming it shut, Dorothy went to stand by the window. Penelope was still speaking.

"You know, I used to be like you. Well, except the crazy. It's this place that has made me crazy. No, I was smart, polite, and well kept. I used to talk circles around the head shrinkers, get sentenced to my room for probation, talk to the librarian. I was ahead of my class in almost everything, and I loved to be challenged and to be a challenge. But after awhile, this place drains your soul. They tell you that you'll be able to earn the right to 'go out' after a while, but they've never let a girl out of this place. They tell you that they'll let your friends and family visit—only they never do. Letters from the outside stop coming, and they convince you that it's because no one but _them_ cares about you anymore. They make you hate your family, hate your old life. Sometimes, they almost make you hate yourself. And then one day, if you're unlucky like me, you find out that they've been pulling the strings all along. You go crazy, and you seal the deal."

Dorothy turned around to face her roommate. It was the most personal—and least cynical—thing she had ever muttered. It was no wonder Penelope was rude and miserable. Dorothy knew that she had friends in Oz who loved her—she knew that her family loved her. But Penelope—Penelope had no one but herself.

Dorothy looked over at her sleeping roommate and felt nothing but sympathy. If she ever managed to leave the _school_, Dorothy vowed that she would ask Hunk to help her track down Penelope's family before leaving. Penelope deserved for her family to know just how hurt she was. The breakfast bell rang, and Penelope—as per usual—grumpily got out of bed and changed into her uniform. Before leaving, she smiled sinisterly and said,

"If you kill yourself while I'm gone, do it on _your _side of the room."

* * *

><p>It had taken Hunk Pike six days to find the school. Despite being fronted by a reputable figure in Topeka— Drundle—none of his classfellows at Washburn University had heard any mention of a "Drundle Institute". He had received the telegram from Emily—who sent it with the help of Miss Gulch—three days after Dorothy was supposed to have arrived. The family was worried, as they had expected to hear from Dorothy the moment she settled in Topeka. To Hunk, it was clear that they were questioning their decision. When Miss Gulch had informed Auntie Em of having traveled to the train station with Dorothy, the whole farm was surprised. When Miss Gulch continued to go into a long speech about the 'indecency and impropriety of a grown man—who was not a relative—taking a young girl on what was almost a day long journey', the seed of worry had been planted in Emily's head. When Miss Gulch went onto say that she did not like 'the cut of 's jib', the rest of the family grew concerned as well. Miss Gulch may have been a miserable lady most days of the year, but she always spoke her mind with honesty.<p>

Upon hearing about what had happened, Hunk had wanted to scream at Auntie Em and Uncle Henry for even considering sending their niece to a 'crazy school'. Dorothy was many things. Crazy was not one of them. Hunk was never sure if he entirely believed her stories about Oz, but her knew that she was an honest girl at heart and would never knowingly tell a lie. _Poor Dorothy_, he thought. From what he had been told, the event that had prompted the decision that saw her shipped off to Topeka had been an attack. She and her date had been assaulted by some unknown attacker and, when Dorothy claimed that the assailant was a monster from one of her Oz stories, took that as an incentive to spirit her away to his mysterious school. A school that, until that morning, Hunk had been able to track down. It had just so happened that, as Hunk was asking the University's librarian about the mysterious Drundle Institute, he was at last rewarded with a lead.

"Drundle you say? Drundle…" Said , the elderly head librarian of Washburn's considerable collection of books, journals, and essays.

"Yes, that's right . He's both a medical doctor and a psychiatrist, and supposedly pretty well known around these parts. I have a…well, a niece who was enrolled in his school here in the city earlier this week, and her family back in the country would like me to check in on her."

"Oh yes, I know—Geoffery Drundle. He used to come to the library, some ten—no wait, fifteen years ago. That was when he used to be a frequent guest lecturer, being a famous Topekan and all that. Though I seem to recall, he wasn't actually from around here. Now where was he from again?"

"" Hunk interrupted, "have you heard of the school? The one he has in the city?"

"School? School…hmm, you know I do remember something…" turned in circles behind his desk, obviously looking for something. He stopped in front of a dusty picture frame(his personal belongings were usually covered in dust). He handed the picture to Hunk and pointed at its dusty face. Beneath the thin layer of dust was a picture of a young girl with dark hair and spectacles.

"That—" began, tapping the glass for emphasis, "is my granddaughter Penny. Penny George. She visits me every fortnight on her leisure time. I seem to recall her mentioning working for a school—a school owned by a famous doctor. She's the librarian there—like me. Takes after her grandpa, she does. A good girl that Penny. Do you know, she used to be a champion horse rider in her youth? Even won some medals. In fact, I think I have a picture around here somewhere…"

"I'd be happy to see it , **after** I find the school. Did your granddaughter ever mention where it was located?"

"No. She did take me there once though." said thoughtfully. His memory of the going ons of the real world could be fuzzy, though he never forgot the title of a book. Hunk's heart leapt. It was the first good news he had heard all week.

"Do you think you could describe the street for me?"

* * *

><p>During her second day of probation, Dorothy Gale was already imagining the strange things that must happen in the secret hospital underneath the school. Did they strap the students down to tables? Did they burn them with electricity? Did they try to create monsters, just like the lead character in Mary Shelley's <em>Frankenstein<em>? And if they did, were their monsters intelligent, lonely beings too—longing for their maker's affection and acceptance? In light of the circumstances, Dorothy was glad that she had not brought _Frankenstein _with her. Not that it would matter, seeing as the books she had placed in her luggage had not been returned to her. Books…Suddenly, Dorothy remembered the bag Miss Gulch had given her. For some reason, no one had thought to take it from her. Dorothy assumed that Nurse Frey hadn't noticed it, and it had been stashed under Dorothy's bed ever since. Leaning over the side of her bed, Dorothy's head hung low as she groped under the bed for her hidden treasure. When she felt the cool fabric of the bag, Dorothy smiled in triumph and pulled the bag out in the open. Gently spilling the contents from the bag onto the gray comforter of her firm bed, Dorothy eyes her treasures with fondness. They may have taken away her 'grown up books', but they had failed to take away her children's stories. And children's stories, as most people can tell you, are the most comforting stories to have—especially when you find yourself on probation.

She hadn't noticed in the train car, but the books were rather dusty. _I think I have a dry cloth in my trunk_, Dorothy thought. She jumped off of her mattress and walked to the end of her bed where her trunk was situated. She knelt on the hardwood floor and unbuckled the latches that secured the lid and ruffled through her laundry, looking for the cloth. Her hands brushed something cool and smooth. Frowning, Dorothy pulled back a folded stack of dresses and shirts and nearly screamed in surprise. There, in the bottom of her trunk, were a pair of red shoes she knew very well. No, not red—ruby. The ruby slippers glistened softly in the natural light. Unsure if she could believe her eyes, Dorothy placed her palms on their cool surfaces. _Real-very real_, Dorothy thought in amazement. She was overcome with joy. With the slippers, Dorothy could go home! She could go to Oz and look for Toto. She could prove to her family at last that she was not crazy. Maybe she could take Auntie Em to the Emerald City and buy her a new dress. Dorothy always hated the depressing gray that her aunt wore every day—even on church days. Dorothy heard footsteps sound in the corridor outside of her room. Hastily she closed her trunk and sat on the lid. Seconds later, Penelope waltzed into the room. Classes must have just let out. Students were given an hour after their last class to wash-up and look presentable.

"**What** are those?" Penelope asked, and Dorothy's heart skipped a beat.

"What are what?"

"On your bed. That's contraband in this little school." Dorothy turned her attention to her bed and realized that she had left her books exposed. Slapping herself mentally, Dorothy sighed.

"Are you going to rat me out to Nurse…what did you call her? Diabolical?" She asked.

"Pfft—as if I'd tell her anything. Besides, you're already being punished. It's not as if there's any entertainment in it for me."

"Thanks" Dorothy said sarcastically. Penelope walked over to her bed and picked up _Alice in Wonderland_.

"Tell you what—I won't tell on you—"

"I thought you already decided you weren't going to rat me out."

"IF I can borrow this." Penelope finished, ignoring Dorothy's interruption. Dorothy shrugged her shoulders.

"Sure. Just don't tear the pages or anything. It was a gift."

"I'm not a child" Penelope sneered.

"Well, technically you're borrowing what is consider to be a _children's book_."

"Yeah well, I never got to finish this one. I always wanted to know if the Queen gets her in the end. I like me a good decapitation story." Dorothy smiled crookedly at her roommate's morbid sense of humor. Keys jingled outside of their door. Before she could think to cover the books, Penelope had darted to her bed, shoving them under her pillow. Nurse Frey entered the room. She took a moment to register the two girls—one who was sitting on her trunk, the other who was sitting on her roommate's bed.

"Miss Gale, you are to come with me at once. would like a word with you." Nurse Frey commanded. Dorothy spread her hands helplessly.

"Would that I could Nurse Frey, but I've been confined to my quarters for a whole week. I still have another five days before my punishment is lifted."

"Now Miss Gale!" Nurse Frey barked. Dorothy rose reluctantly. As she was leaving, Penelope smiled and mimed a blade across her throat. She hated to leave her room. She hated to leave the ruby slippers—her only hope of salvation—alone for even a second. Convincing herself that they would still be in her trunk when she returned, Dorothy followed Nurse Frey, dragging her feet all the way.

Dorothy was, much to her surprise, not led to 's posh office. Instead she was led to the social room, which was intended for outside visitors. Though according to Penelope, it was seldom in use. was waiting inside, seated on a lounge couch. Dorothy was directed to a chair by Nurse Frey. Unlike the previous _interrogation_, Nurse Frey did not leave the room. Instead she stood read in the corner—like a loyal watch dog ready to bite anyone who caused its master offense. was the first to speak. Like Dorothy had noticed the day before last, no longer cared about keeping up a pleasant pretense. Not around her anyway.

"Have you enjoyed your confinement my dear? Have your tears kept faithful vigil or have they—like your family—been eager to be done with you?"

Dorothy remained expressionless. She would not be baited by an overqualified bully.

"No words to say Miss Gale? No cutting wit?"

"Considering the mere size of the English language, I imagine that they're a great deal of words to say. Tens of thousands of words I would wager. Presently, nothing you have said has moved me to say them."

"Which is merely a cheeky way of telling me that you have nothing to say." smiled. "Well, I have something to say. I just received an unusual visit."

Before Dorothy could pretend not to care, her peripheral vision registered a figure walking in the courtyard, towards the gate. Dorothy rose from her seat and rushed to the window to confirm what she knew could not be true. Aghast, Dorothy found that her suspicion had been correct. It was,

"Hunk!" Dorothy cried. "Hunk! Up here Hunk! It's me, Dorothy! Hunk!" Dorothy yelled. Realizing that he could not hear her, Dorothy looked for a way to open the window. Like the window in her room, the social room's windows were nailed shut. Hunk was getting nearer and nearer to the gate. Desperate, Dorothy began to pound on the window. Nurse Frey moved to contain her, but raised his hand, stopping her in her steps. After Hunk disappeared beyond the gate, Dorothy turned to meet 's quiet chuckles. He practically reeked of haughtiness. Dorothy wanted to beat him with his own cane.

"Yes, imagine my surprise when your Aunt and Uncle's farm boy came to the front gate, demanding to see me. I almost didn't let him in—almost. However, since he now knows the location of my secluded little abode, I had not choice but to see him in person and dissuade him from visiting again."

"What did you tell him?" Dorothy demanded, mortified. Smirking, continued,

"Why I told him the truth of course. That you didn't want to see him—that you didn't want to see anyone. In fact, I told him that you told me that you never wanted to see him again because you were upset at him for leaving you—for not protecting you from the monsters that take flight in the night. I also told him of your little breakdown the other day, of how you attacked another girl in a fit of delirium and were currently under psychiatric supervision."

"Why—why you make up such lies! Oh no wait—" Dorothy yelled, practically sizzling. "I forgot, you lie about everything! You lied to my Aunt and Uncle about the things that go on in the _lower levels_ of this school, you lied to me when you said that I could earn the right to read, or to go outside. And I'm not entirely convinced that you weren't lying about my mother either! You're a cruel, wretched man! Why, If I only had the means I'd—"

"You'd what Miss Gale? Melt me with a bucket of water? I'm hardly a green faced witch, am I? You're little story tricks won't work in the real world."

"The water killed the witch because she was so old and dried-up with evil! As you are both, I shouldn't wonder if it would work on you too!" Dorothy yelled, and Nurse Frey gasped openly at her outburst. rose to his feet, smiling like a mad hatter.

"Aha! Here we are! Here at last is a grain of truth spoken from your lying lips!"

Dorothy pursed her lips tightly. In her anger, she had broken the promise that she had made to herself not to talk about Oz while in the asylum. She attempted to salvage the situation by—as always—denying her statement.

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Oh no, Miss Gale—it's too late for denial. You've already opened the floodgates to the story you've been keeping in for all these years. Now Miss Gale, while those wonderful tales are on the tip of your tongue—now is the time to tell me!"

Dorothy stumbled back, suddenly frightened by the doctor's intensity. She backed into Nurse Frey, who then held her firmly.

"Tell you what!" Dorothy demanded.

"Where are they Miss Gale? Where did you stash them! And don't tell me that they fell off on your journey home. I've looked! Artifacts that powerful just don't stay lost for half a decade."

"What are you talking about!" Dorothy cried, her arms aching from Nurse Frey's tight grip.

"The Ruby Slippers you insolent girl! Where have you hidden them!"

Dorothy started at the doctor, wide-eyed with fear. Did he know? Did he have eyes, even in her room? How could he have known that right now, as they spoke, the ruby slippers were stashed in the bottom of her trunk? Dorothy hadn't known herself more than mere minutes ago. Swallowing hard, Dorothy did her best to clear her face. When she failed to speak, screamed,

"WHERE ARE THEY!"

Dorothy heard keys in the hall, and did the only thing she could think of. She screamed—loudly and shrilly. Nurse Frey released her from shock and stumbled back in surprise. Penny George came rushing into the room, having heard Dorothy's screams from the hall.

"What in the world is going on here? ? Nurse Frey?" Ever quick to change faces, smiled reassuringly. He nodded briskly to nurse Frey, who proceeded to do the same.

"Miss Gale has had a terrible fright. A rather large mouse just scurried across the floor. Would you see her to her room please, Miss George. I know she'd feel safer with you."

"Of course, ." Penny replied, looking nervously about for the rodent in question. She beckoned Dorothy to follow her out the door and Dorothy practically sprinted out of the room. On the way back to the dormitory, Penny tried to fill the time with chit-chat.

"Oh I just hate mice! They gnaw on books you know. Eat the glue right out of the binding. And they make a nest with the pages. Filthy little creatures. They used to scare the horses something terrible too, back when I raced."

"I…erm…see them all the time near the compost heap on the farm. I guess I just never expected to see one in the city."

"Oh yes, city rats can be especially large. They come off of the boats you know. Frightful when you think about it. The plague was spread by sea-faring rats too. Ah, here we are. Safe and sound." Penny declared, stopping in front of Dorothy's room. Dorothy smiled appreciatively, eager to get back into her room. Before she rushed inside, Penny grabbed her arm. Leaning close, she pulled something out of her jacket and slid it into Dorothy's arms.

"I snuck this out for you" she whispered. "Just promise me you won't get caught, and I'll see if we can't do this sort of thing more often. Oh, and you have to give me a full review when you're done. Goodnight, and don't worry about the mouse. I'm sure they'll see that someone takes care of it in the morning." Winking, Penny made her way down the stairs. Dorothy waited for a few seconds before looking at the book in her arms. It was _Pride and Prejudice _by Jane Austen. Ordinarily, she would have been excited. However, right now she was a girl with a purpose. She had to get to her ruby slippers. She had to get to freedom.

* * *

><p>Hunk had practically been kicked out the suspect little school, which was tucked away—unmarked—in a little section of the city. Passerbys would never notice it. Hunk had almost missed it himself. If had not insisted that he had stopped by a little antique shop called "The Shop around the Corner" after visiting his granddaughter, Hunk would have questioned the old man's directions. Sure enough however, after passing the store a third time, Hunk noticed an out of place security gate. Marching up the gate, Hunk demanded to be seen. He received no response from the guard until he mentioned by name. At that, the guard seemed confused. He turned his back on Hunk to make a call, and Hunk tried to use the opportunity to climb the gate. He was never good at being stealthy, and it wasn't long before the guard was pulling him down. Hunk was sure he was going to get a beating with the guard's truncheon. interrupted however, having made his way outside during the tussle.<p>

"James, what is the meaning of the commotion?"

"It's him sir—he tried to jump the gate. And before that, he was asking for you" the guard said, pointing his truncheon accusatorily at Hunk. Hunk, who had fallen to ground after being ripped from the gate, stood up hastily and straightened his coat.

"You—you look familiar to me. Have we met before, Mr…?" asked, squinting his eyes at Hunk.

"The names Hunk—Hunk Pike, sir. I used to work for Emily and Henry Long on their farm in Kansas. We've met a few times before, at church and at your clinic." Hunk said, extending his hand. did not move to shake it. Instead he smiled—rather forcefully in Hunk's opinion—and nodded to the guard. The guard stood at attention and then proceeded to open the rest of the gate.

"I ah—assume that you're hear about Dorothy?" asked, and Hunk nodded vigorously.

"That's right sir. Her aunt and uncle and—well, all of us that care for her, were worried. None of us have heard from her since she came to stay here, and that was more than a week ago. Seeing as I'm the closest, her family back on the farm asked me to check-in on her. I'm sure you understand doctor."

"Ah—yes, yes of course. Do come inside. We can discuss this matter further and behind closed doors."

After that, Hunk's morning had taken a turn for the worse. He had been led to a stuffy little sitting room whose windows—he observed—were nailed shut. Pleasantries were ignored, and Hunk was told outrageous things. The most outrageous being the fact that Dorothy had claimed to want nothing to do with him, and that she had attacked a fellow student. When Hunk had fought the doctor's claim with less than 'civil' language, he had been all but dragged out by the gate guard. Before being shown out to the street, Hunk had despondently searched the windows for his little Dorrie. If he had let his vision linger for a few moments longer, he might have seen Dorothy leap to the window of the very same stuffy sitting room he had just inhabited and cry out to him for help. However, like Dorothy had previously said, it was not a good month for hopes. So Hunk allowed himself to be kicked to the curb. He was angry, but not demoralized. If anything, he was more determined that he had been before. Something strange was going on at that school, and Hunk was going to find out just what it was and what was being done to his little Dorrie. He might not have been a strong man, but he was very clever. This was something that and his minions would soon find out.

After retreating to the safety of her room, Dorothy rushed to her trunk and pulled the lid open—nearly ripping it from its hinges in her haste. She desperately rummaged through her clothes, only to find a vacancy where the slippers had been.

"Oh no. No, no, no" Dorothy said aloud. "Where are they? They were here just a little while ago!"

"Are you looking for _these_?" Penelope asked, emerging from behind the dressing divider. She was holding the slippers in her left hand, smirking at Dorothy.

"Penelope, give those to me now. They don't belong to you." Dorothy said, rising to her feet. The last thing she needed right now was to deal with one of her roommate's bipolar episodes.

"No, I think I'll try them on first. How did a farm hick come to own something so…shiny, anyway?" Penelope sneered, dropping the slippers to the ground. She stepped into them, and took a turn about the room. All the while, Dorothy was wondering how exactly she would rip them off of her feet. Before she had too however, Penelope stopped in the middle of her second turn about the room and frowned.

"These are kind of…hot" she said, and as she spoke Dorothy could see beads of perspiration dot her face. Penelope's breath became quick and shallow. Frantically, she began to claw at her feet. Dorothy approached her cautiously.

"Here, let me help you…"

"Oh my god—oh my god, get them off! Get them off! They're burning! I can't, I can't…" Penelope never finished her thought. In a brilliant flash of white, her body burst into bright flames. Dorothy's screams were caught in her mouth, and she staggered back in fear. Penelope let out the most horrific cry—even more terrifying than the Wicked Witch's screeches as she melted into an evil puddle. It was so piercing, and so full of pain, that Dorothy was sure that it was a real force. One that gripped her heart and squeezed all of the light out of it. After a second more of writhing and screaming, Penelope disintegrated in a scorching flash of white light. The only thing that remained were the ruby slippers, which glistened innocently on the floor. Dorothy shakily rose from the floor, gripping her bed for support. Before she could mourn, or register the tragedy she had just witnessed, Dorothy heard feet running up the stairs. Desperately, she lunged herself at the door and locked it shut. She knew that this would only buy her a minute or less, as whoever it was would surely have keys. In a flurry of panic, Dorothy moved automatically. She grabbed the book that Penny had given her and shoved in the sack with the other books. _Alice in Wonderland_ was still missing, but she didn't have the time to look for it. Flinging the bag over her shoulder, Dorothy grabbed the side-handle of her trunk and hurriedly shoved her feet into the slippers. She did not know if they would burn her alive as well. What she did know was that she couldn't be here when they came. She couldn't answer the questions about Penelope's disappearance. She couldn't handle another session. She couldn't handle another day living in fear of a hidden hospital underneath the floors. Dorothy heard the key being placed in the lock, and her mind was made up. She clapped her heels together three times saying,

"There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place…"

The room around her faded into nothingness. She felt wind rush through her hair. All at once, she could see everything in the world. She could see the farm, she could see Hunk working hard at school, she could see Ruth and Roman playing a game of cards, and she could even see the Capital Building. Suddenly, the landscape beneath her feet changed. She was spiraling over a vast expanse of desert. After awhile, the sands merged into grass, and the grass led into trees. The sky was dark, and in the distance she could see a glow. A green glow. As she grew closer she recognized the shape. It was the Emerald City. Coming to a dizzying halt, Dorothy fell down into a bed of flowers, just yards outside the city gates. He trunk made a large thump as it landed next to her. Dorothy Gale had returned to Oz. Dorothy Gale was home.


	9. Home Sweet Oz

_**AN: **__I will begin by saying that I really,REALLY, adore __**SilveryBeing's "Heart of Oz"**_**, **_which is a fantastic fanfic here on that was published six whole years ago! It's not complete, and SilveryBeing updates sporadically, but I really suggest checking it out. It's one of the best 'return to Oz' fics I've read and believe me—I've read a bunch! Why do I mention this fic? Well, I particularly love her depiction of the Scarecrow who is transformed into a real king as well as realistic romantic interest for Dorothy's character who has struggled with post-depression hardships. Naturally, when I finally did reach this chapter—which features the scarecrow heavily—I found myself thinking about her characterization of the Scarecrow. I've tried my best—and will continue to do my best—at making my Scarecrow unique and interesting. I've also tried to create my own image of him, though with respect I will credit __**SilveryBeing's **__interpretation of the character as a source of inspiration of my own. Also, a note concerning Glinda. In __**Baum's**__ books, Glinda is the Good Witch of the __South__, not the North. The Good Witch of the North is a different character, and it is she—not Glinda—who greets Dorothy in the Munchkin land. Keeping to the movie, I've kept Glinda's main role. The book Good Witch of the North will be appearing later, and she will be titled the Good Witch of the South. _

_Lastly, a very special thank you to **Jenn**, who provided this story with its first review! Finally, I no longer have a hypothetical audience! _

**~Chapter 9: Home Sweet Oz~**

_Dorothy Gale was in a poorly lit room. She did not recognize the room itself, but she knew that she felt a familiar presence. It was an odd sensation, that of knowing and not knowing simultaneously. Her mind focused on a conversation that was happening in the opposite corner of the room. A fireplace was burning brightly and in front of it were two human silhouettes. As they had their backs to her, Dorothy could not make out their faces, nor could she move from her present position. She was suspended in air, both apart of and separate from the scenario. _

"_She got away? Well, that is a first for you. You're usually so careful about keeping your subjects locked away."_

"_Do not act so smug about it ****" When the other silhouette—who Dorothy identified as a man—said the name of his companion, Dorothy heard nothing but buzzing. For some reason, she was not able to identify their names or titles—only their voices. One—the one who had just spoken—Dorothy was sure had to be . But who was the other? The conversation continued. _

"_I would except you to show your poor **** some sympathy!" That was , and he sounded angry._

"_Yes, well, I did warn you. I told you that she was clever. I deduced as much when I first met her. And I seem to recall that I told you to be cautious." The other voice was male also, though Dorothy did not recognize it. _

"_A fat load of good caution did me. That little harpy had them all along! Frey happened in on her, just as she was whizzing away. I wonder if she was laughing at me all those years when I tried to pry the stories out of her. It makes me practically violent just thinking about it."_

"_Yes well, you never were good at tolerating jokes at your expense, no matter how deserved they were."_

"_Insolence! If your mother could—" spat. His rage spread through Dorothy like a virus. It made her head pound and her heart leap about like a blinded rabbit._

"_Oh, spare me the reprimands ****, you know what I say to be true. You're just angry that someone else sees it. And what of the other girl?"_

"_What other girl?" _

"_The roommate—Pansy Varnes, or something like that?"_

"_Penelope Varnes, you mean? Gone without a trace. It's her own fault really. When I told her to look through the Gale girl's things I gave specific instructions that she was not tamper with any out of place items. She was supposed to bring them back to me."_

"_Yes well, that's what you get for trusting a sadistic bipolar teenager. One that you molded none the less. Besides, I'm rather glad it happened. I was hoping that I'd get a chance to see Miss Gale's pretty eyes again."_

"_Honestly ****, you only think of women and—" 's voice stopped abruptly. _

"_What's the matter ****?"_

"_Shh! Quiet foolish boy! Don't you feel it?"_

"_Feel what?"_

"_We're being watched." whispered. Turning, he looked directly in Dorothy's direction. Dorothy willed herself not to be seen. After a few moments, just when it seemed as though he would turn around, a loud crack from the fire caused Dorothy's concentration to fade. 's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in anger. Advancing upon her, he yelled,_

"_It's her! She's in the room! Quick, grab the spraknomitor! Hurry, she's fading away!"_

_The breath left her lungs. She felt as though two hands had jerked her back suddenly, out of the room and into oblivion. 's raging eyes were the last things she saw before…_

Dorothy woke up in a start. Her eyes were blurry from sleep, and her mind was still trapped in that state in between dreaming and waking. Where was she? Groping about her, Dorothy felt the softness of fine cloth and the plush form of numerous pillows. Something wet her face and, for a moment, Dorothy thought that she was in the open somewhere in the midst of a rain. Arms flailing, she caught onto something soft and warm. Her vision adjusted to the dim of her surroundings, and her eyes registered the object in her grasp. It was…it couldn't be. The emphatic thumping of his tail and the distinctly doggy odor on his breath confirmed it. It was Toto!

"Oh Toto! Toto, is it really you! I've missed you so much!" Dorothy exclaimed, her voice scratchy from sleep. Holding Toto in front of her, she wagged her finger sternly.

"That was a terrible thing you did Toto, leaving me like that! Don't you know how lost I was without you? Oh Toto, do I have a story to tell you! And perhaps…well, perhaps you have something to tell me too. Where are we? How did you get here? Oh, I'm so glad that you're all right!"

"Where you are is very simple," a voice said. Someone had opened the room's curtains, and Dorothy realized that she was in a very large canopy bed, whose curtains were still down. She blinked her eyes against the light and noticed a figure behind her curtains. It must have belonged to the voice that had just spoken. Unsure of what to do, Dorothy waited for the voice to continue.

"You are in the Emerald City—in the ninth wing, to be exact, and in the ninth floor's royal suite. It is half past the noon sun, and you've been sleeping for almost a full day. How you got here—well, I'm sure that you know the particulars better than I. As to how you came to be placed in _this _room, it was at the king's insistence. To quote him, 'old friends deserve the best—and wonderful old friends deserve the _very best'_"

Dorothy sat up in bed—a very difficult task due to the plush mattress and sea of pillows—and slowly pulled back the canopy. Momentarily blinded as her eyes struggled to adjust to the light, Dorothy shielded her vision with her hands. The figure started to shift into focus as her vision settled. It was none other than Glinda, the good witch of the North. As always, she radiated splendor(which was only further enhanced by the silver light that streamed into the room). Her red locks contrasted sharply with the green décor of the room and her blue eyes were—as always—sparkling with intelligence. Unlike her prior appearance, Glinda now donned a beautiful white dress, diaphanous in its movement and radiant in the light. She was even more beautiful than Dorothy had remembered. Glinda met Dorothy's stares with a whimsical smile. When she was younger, she had felt as though that very smile implied an inside joke that Glinda was always party to. Now that she was older, Dorothy felt as though the smile implied the vast amount of knowledge that Glinda was always privy to. Toto barked the silence away and demanded more attention from his absentee owner. Dorothy complied, and as she scratched the sensitive areas behind his ears she decided to ask Glinda the many question that were stewing in her head.

"How did I come to be here Glinda?"

"With the Ruby Slippers naturally."

Dorothy gulped, remembering the images of a flame consumed Penelope. The picture would be forever scorched in her mind.

"Yes, but…"

"How did the slippers come to you?" Glinda asked, coming to sit next to Dorothy. Dorothy nodded.

"Well my dear, that is a vested story with two explanations—the long one, or the longer one. Which would you prefer?"

Before Dorothy could answer, the growl of her stomach spoke for her. Glinda smiled and made a motion with her hand. A small, claw-footed serving tray appeared in front of Dorothy and settled on her lap. It was filled with a variety of colorful foods that Dorothy did not recognize, though her sense of smell recognized that they were bound to taste delicious.

"The long version it is then" Glinda said. As Dorothy began to eat, Glinda launched into her explanation, all the while carrying an aloof expression.

"You see, when you first came to Oz and destroyed the Wicked Witch of the East, you fulfilled an age-long magical agreement—one that was issued long ago when the war betwixt the witches began. Longer than most memory can recall. The agreement stipulated that the victor of a battle may take with them their opponents chief possession. In her lifetime, the Wicked Witch of the East created many evils—"

"Like the Rubby Slippers" Dorothy interrupted. Glinda smiled sweetly at her outburst, and Dorothy took her smile to mean that she'd prefer it if she could finish her story. Dorothy dared not interrupt afterwards.

"Not exactly my dear. The slippers themselves are not an evil. Magic is a neutral force, and it's application—whether it is used for good and evil—depends solely on its handler. For all of her wickedness, the Wicked Witch of the East was a brilliant craftswoman and was in many ways her sister's (The Wicked Witch of the West) superior in magical authority. The ruby that she used to craft the slippers was no ordinary ruby. It was taken from a lost city, made of gems such as this one. She stripped the ruins of what remained and crafted the slippers with a potent magic. They were by far her most power possession, and because you were the one that defeated her, the slippers came to you and you alone. In order to have obtained them from you, the Wicked Witch of the West would have needed to defeat you, but I ensured that she could not with the kiss I laid upon your brow."

Seeing that Glinda had paused for her questions, Dorothy jumped on the opportunity.

"But Glinda, how could I have defeated the Wicked Witch of the West? I was not in conflict with her!"

"Perhaps not my dear, but the rules were never so specific. All they implied was that a witch had to be defeated."

"But then—if I really did inherit them, why did they not come back earlier? As a matter of fact, why is it that they fell off my feet at all?"

"That will take another long explanation I'm afraid, so try to be patient. You won the slippers, but because you were not a witch, you had little idea of how to command them. I had to tell you how to pilot them home, for you would not have known how to otherwise. You trusted in my advice, and in the power of the slippers to take you home. As to why they fell off—there are a few possibilities. As to how they found you in Topeka, they responded to your great desire to go home. As the master of them, your will beckons where they go. However, as they were so very far away, you needed to be in a position where you were desperate enough to command the strength needed to bring them back. When you asked to slippers to guide you home, you came here. Clearly, Oz was the home that your heart had in mind."

Oz was the home her heart had in mind? Thinking back on that night—that terrible night—Dorothy could not remember what home she was thinking of when she clapped her heels together. She had pined for Oz for so very long, it only made sense that it would be there where her heart would take her. Distantly, she wondered if had informed her Aunt and Uncle that she had disappeared. _Probably not_, Dorothy thought. _He didn't seem to fond of telling the truth. _Remembering the dream that she had prior to waking in Oz, Dorothy shuddered.

"You look troubled" Glinda cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from Dorothy's forehead. _This must be what it's like to have a mother_…

"I was recalling a dream I had last night. It was a little…disturbing. And confusing."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Glinda offered

"No thank you. Not right now anyway. I did want to ask you something else though, if that's all right."

"Of course. You may ask me anything and I will answer it to the best of my abilities."

"It's just…why did…WHY did Penelope—" Dorothy cleared her throat, finding it hard to continue. Glinda continued for her.

"Why did Penelope perish when she stepped into the slippers? That is difficult to say definitively." The way in which Glinda replied made Dorothy feel as though she was holding something back—perhaps something unpleasant.

"But you have a guess?" Dorothy prompted.

"I have many, some more likely than others. However, since you've asked and I have promised to answer you to the best of my abilities, I will give you my best estimation of why the event that happened did. Pay heed—these are unsubstantiated facts as of the moment. My best working hypothesis, is that something compelled the shoes to burn Penelope."

"Was it—was it me? Did I compel them to do such a horrible thing?" asked a mortified Dorothy. Glinda was quick to offer a reassuring smile.

"No, my dear. You do not hold wicked intentions, so you could not command such sinister magic. It had to have been something else—or some distant force."

"But how could that be? I thought I won the right to complete ownership of the slippers? Who else but me could have—"

"As of yet, I do not hold an answer to this question. Nor do I have a guess that I would be willing to offer presently. I will tell you a fact however, and it is that the people or things who could have masterminded such a feat are either dead or should be dead."

"Should be dead?"

"Yes dear. That, however, is the longer version of the story—a version that I promise that we shall get to in due time, when you have settled and allowed your mind to breathe and when I have conducted more research into the subject. Now, you are finished eating?"

Looking down, Dorothy realized that both she and Toto had cleaned the tray. Waving her hand in the opposite direction, Glinda spirited the tray away—presumably to the kitchen. She stood up and walked away from the bed and Dorothy followed. Glinda's long silver wand appeared in her right hand and she motioned the star counter-clockwise. A gentle breeze surrounded Dorothy, and afterwards she found herself feeling refreshed. Her clothing had been magically changed, and she now wore a deep-blue satin dress with elbow length sleeves and white lace leggings. Looking down at her feet, Dorothy gasped when she noticed that the Ruby Slippers were still firmly attached.

"In light of what happened to poor Penelope Varnes, and because the slippers have done you no harm, I felt it best not to tamper with the slippers. You may feel safe in them Dorothy, for no evil can be done with them so long as they are under the command of your gentle heart."

Even with Glinda's reassurance, Dorothy was not sure that she would ever be comfortable with the slippers again. They had been her salvation and her doom on the same night and, as the doom they caused was still fresh in her mind, Dorothy currently felt as though the negatives associated with the slippers outweighed the positive.

"Come now Dorothy. I shall take you to see a friend, who has been waiting for you for five years."

* * *

><p>Being king was not an easy task. Five years ago, when he was sequestered to a pole, Scarecrow would never thought that he—a man with straw for brains—would ever be afforded such a lavish position. It was also a very stressful position, and it demanded a significant amount of his time and attention. Scarecrow had a motto however: "I am never too busy for friends". If his friends needed anything, no matter what it was or how busy Scarecrow was, he would always do his best to deliver. This made the people view him as a generous and attentive king, which helped his position considerably. When the Wizard of Oz had first landed from the sky in his mystical balloon, the people of the Emerald City—long without a proper ruler—were amazed. Proclaiming him to be a wizard—despite the reality that he was a simple man from Omaha—the poor man had been shepherd into a leading position in a land that was alien to him. He had done his best, but ultimately left the city economically fragile and without proper structure. Had it not been for the protection of Glinda—who searched fervently for the lost heir—the city would have surely fallen to certain scheming members of the aristocracy. When Scarecrow unwittingly inherited the role of king, he had inherited both the title and the burdens of rebuilding a once grand city. If you asked his people if he succeeded in this task most would sincerely agree.<p>

There were few beings in Oz who held both the knowledge and wisdom of Scarecrow(for knowledge and wisdom are two different things entirely) as well as humility. He was not modest in regards to his intelligence, but he was never egotistical. During his journey down the yellow-brick years ago, he had learned that people had the potential to be anything they wanted to be—and that oftentimes, you'll find parts of yourself that you never knew you had when given the chance to grow and evolve. Scarecrow understood that dangling his considerable brain conceitedly for all to see did not support growth—it only bred contempt. And besides, Scarecrow also knew that intelligence was not fuel for vanity. It was something to be shared and taught, and you did not teach people through vanity.

Today was an especially exciting day for Scarecrow. He had summoned his friends Nick Chopper(formerly referred to as the Tin Woodsman) and Leonas(formerly referred to as the Cowardly Lion) to come to the Emerald City at once. Both were rulers like him. Nick ruled over the Winkie Kingdom that was formerly under the Wicked Witch of the West's spell and Leonas ruled over the Forest of Wild Beasts. They had been summoned to the Emerald City for a very special occasion. Dorothy Gale, the brave little girl from Kansas who had earned a special place in all of their hearts, had finally returned to Oz. It had been five years, which in Scarecrow's mind was five years too long. Friends should not be separated for such a grueling amount of time, with no means to contact each other. Friends were infinite. Since becoming king, Scarecrow had made many friends, though few occupied his thoughts more than the three that he journeyed with all those years ago. Jack Pumpkinhead interrupted his thoughts, depositing a pile of paperwork onto Scarecrow's desk. They were currently in the King's study, which was where Scarecrow spent most of his time. Jack and Scarecrow were similar in many ways. Both were made of unusual materials, and both struggled with chronic balance issues(though since his tenure as King, Scarecrow had been much more properly stuffed and did not trip quite as much as he used to). Both were loyal to a fault, and both had gently dispositions. Jack was not what someone might consider very intelligent, though he did possess a simple, homey wisdom that Scarecrow appreciated. Jack also had the disposition of a child, though in the best way possible. It was hard not to find him endearing. Another hidden talent of Jack's was his architectural genius, which Scarecrow had exploited to help expand certain areas of the city.

"Are those all patrol reports?" Scarecrow asked, making his way over to his desk. Jack, who was over seven-feet tall, loomed over him.

"Mostly—though there may be some requests for building permits in there as well."

"The aristocrats I suppose—yearning to add more fancy garnishes to their already fancy houses." Scarecrow replied in good humor. He had struggled with the Emerald City's aristocracy every years since coming to power—though less now than he did in his first year. While the Wizard had presided over the city, he had let many formerly established regulations slide. The class system in the city, which had formerly been fairly inconsequential, had polarized greatly during his reign. If certain aristocrats had their way, Scarecrow was certain that they would create a caste system—making it impossible for any "lower classes" to move up the ranks, thus securing their titles and power.

"Did we get any agriculture reports this morning?" Scarecrow asked, rifling through the papers. He was a quick reader and did not need to spend more than a few seconds on any given page.

"Hmm…I don't know. I didn't check." Jack replied. 'I don't know' was a fairly typical Pumpkinhead response. Scarecrow did not view this as a fault. He respected people who could admit what they did not know, and who were willing to learn.

"Ah—here it is. It looks as though there are still some thefts along the shipping route. It hasn't affected our number of wares too terribly as of yet, but I'll need to have some guards investigate. Could you see if Omby Amby is free? If not him, than Jinjur."

Jinjur had been an especially boisterous aristocrat who had tried to lead an all-women revolt against Scarecrow during his second year as king. She was courageous and hot-heated, though misguided. Her father, who was an aristocrat who had been exiled during King Pastoria's reign, had masterminded a marriage between her mother and a most unscrupulous gentleman, who had attempted to marry her off to a terrible man. He also tried to restrict her education and her independence. This was not an uncommon thing amongst some of the more dastardly aristocrats, who held strange views about gender-roles that the rest of the Emerald City(and most of Oz) did not share. Upset, Jinjur wrote a letter to the king. When she received no reply, she decided to revolt against him in order to maintain her threatened freedom and to command her own destiny. Unbeknownst to her however, her letter had been intercepted and destroyed and the Scarecrow never received her request for aid. Jinjur was a talented leader and warrior, whose weapons of choice were knitting needles(which she handled with an incredible amount of deftness and accuracy). She did, however, have one weakness. Jinjur was terrified of mice. When the elite force of Ozite mice had intercepted her coup, Jinjur quickly fell apart. Instead of having her punished, Scarecrow heard her story. Admiring her courage and feeling for her situation, Scarecrow decreed the marriages could not be arranged without the consent of the people who were to be married and that no one—not father or mother—could thwart their child's divine right to persue and education or seek the field which satisfied them best. As a result, Jinjur went into the king's service and helped to keep the borders safe with her gifted strategic mind as well as act as a deputy-ambassador the program called the Brain Initiative. The program sought to offer education to those in need as well as to collect important pieces of family, trade, and cultural wisdom from anyone who had anything to offer. And the program operated under the assumption that everyone had at least something to offer.

"I could go" Jack offered

"You're just too frightened of Jinjur to ask her," Scarecrow said humorously. Jack's personality, despite appealing to him, did not seem to mesh well with Jinjur. As a result, she rather frightened him. From an outside party view, an observant person would note that these interactions were not mean but rather, that of an older sister looking out for a younger brother. Like most younger brothers, Jack thought that his "older sister" nagged too much.

"Well, I don't know if it is fear. But it is _something_" Jack replied, thoughtfully tapping his pumpkin head with his wooden fingers.

"She just likes having someone to mother hen. Besides, I need you here to help with my very special guest"

"Special guest?" Jack asked, and his pumpkin head creaked as it tried to cock to the side. Magic helped keep Jack's head on(most of the time) and helped to slow the rotting process, but the range of a pumpkin on a wooden neck could be very limited. "Ah! Miss Dorothy!" Jack exclaimed after a moment. Seconds after Jack Pumpkinhead had connected the pumpkinseeds in his head, which lead to the revelation, the doors to the study magically opened. Glinda's statuesque form floated into the room. Behind her followed a young lady who was accompanied by an enthusiastic black dog. On her feet, red shoes glittered wildly in the natural light. Upon seeing eachother for the first time in many years, Scarecrow and Dorothy merely stared. When Toto saw fit to remind them that they were supposed to hug, Dorothy smiled wildly and ran over to Scarecrow with arms wide open. Scarecrow received her with a smile just as wide. She was running with so much force that upon hugging him, the two toppled to the ground. Scarecrow's straw body may have been reinforced, but it was still made of straw after all. Laughing, Dorothy returned to her feet and helped the Scarecrow up.

"Oh Scarecrow! I've missed you so very much! I was so lost without your wisdom and humor! I don't know how I ever managed! And you—you look so different!"

Dorothy stood at arm length in order to size Scarecrow up. Only, it wasn't exactly the Scarecrow of her memories. He was no longer quite as tall, though Dorothy supposed that had more to do with the fact that she was no longer quite as short. His eyes, much to her surprise, were no longer made of paint. They shined with the light, and Dorothy could tell that they were made of glass. The color of his eyes, once bright blue, now held a more mystical quality. They managed to be varying shades of blue at once, like a kaleidoscope. His straw hair was longer, about shoulder length, and was tied off at the back. His nose was still painted brown, and he still wore a pointed hat—though this hat was far more grandiose than his previous one. It was a very deep green—almost black, in fact—with gems sewn onto it. In the right light, Dorothy imagined that it probably looked like a crown. His outfit was also no longer the shabby rags that he had once worn. Instead, he was clad in a green, silver, and white uniform—very militaristic in style, but not without an Ozite flare. His smile however was exactly as Dorothy had remembered it.

Scarecrow took the opportunity to examine his friend as well. She was no longer quite as short as she had been—though that was to be expected. He hair was darker and he felt as though it complemented her sun-kissed complexion. Her eyes were the same delicate blue, and a hint of jovial wit still danced inside of her eyes. Overall, there was a sense of great change about her, though somehow Scarecrow was confidant that she had not changed in the places that mattered.

He was so happy to see his friend in good health—having heard from Glinda that she had experienced some trying trials as of late—that he neglected to pay attention to the other inhabitants of the room. Jack cleared his pumpkin throat, and Scarecrow remembered his manners.

"I'm very glad to see you too Dorothy. And I know everyone else will be when they arrive in the city."

"Are they really all coming!" Dorothy asked, positively exuberant.

"Oh yes—no distance is great enough for friends. Speaking of friends, this is my good friend and assistant Jack Pumpkinhead" Scarecrow beckoned to Jack, who clumsily made his way over to Dorothy. She was in awe of his tremendous height, a smiled fixed on her face as he approached. _This is why I love Oz, _she thought, _you are always making such interesting friends. _

"How do you do Dorothy. My name is Jack Pumpkinhead—but you can just call me Jack. It's easier to say" Jack did his best to bow, but the weight of his head caused his body to lean out of his control. Dorothy and Scarecrow simultaneously scrambled to catch him, and Toto ran out of the way as if to avoid a possible crash. When Dorothy and Scarecrow got Jack righted, his head leaned too far back and he almost fell completely backwards. Dorothy and Scarecrow ran to catch him, and the two exchanged knowing glances. They had undergone a similar routine when they had first met the Tin Woodsman. After all of these years, they still worked in perfect unison. Jack flailed his arms, unable to properly right himself. Glinda, who had been watching in bemusement, decided to lend a magical hand. She gently tapped the top of Jack's head with her silver wand. Instantaneously, Jack found his footing.

"Oh, thank you Glinda. New pumpkins are especially hard to break-in. Jinjur was right, I should have taken more of the flesh out" Jack seemed very depressed at his admission, as he did not like to acknowledge when "naggy Jinjur" was right. Dorothy let out a breath of relief. Turning to Jack she said,

"Pleased to meet you Jack. I think your head is _wonderful_. One of the most impressive heads I have ever seen, and that is the truth" Jack's carved mouth formed a smile. If Jinjir was his nagging big sister, then he had just found his new "nice" big sister.

"Now then Jack," Glinda started, beckoning towards the door with her wand, "why don't we leave these two to catch-up, and I'll see what can be about alleviating your head problems."

"Oh, thank you Glinda. I do so very much appreciate it. Only, could you not mention this to Jinjir? She gets awfully cheeky when she wants to tell me that, 'she told me so'."

The comical pair made their way out of the study, and Glinda magically closed the doors behind them. Toto, tired out from the excitement, trotted over to one of the study's seating areas and quickly fell into a nap.

* * *

><p>Scarecrow spent the rest of the day showing Dorothy around the ninth floor of the palace. They walked through many corridors of dizzying proportions. Dorothy had forgotten just how large the city was! Mind you, she had only ever seen a small section of it. The ceilings must have been fifty—no, a hundred feet high! And how everything sparkled! As if by magic, the same green never seemed to repeat itself to the point of monotony. It reminded Dorothy of the Scarecrow's brilliant kaleidoscope eyes. The Scarecrow led the way with expert precision, stopping every now and then to explain certain paintings or pieces of artwork to Dorothy. Unlike 's similar tour in Topeka, Dorothy found the Emerald Palace tour to be abundantly interesting. It helped that she also rather liked the company.<p>

"That mural over there was commissioned by King Pastoria, the last true King of Oz"

"I never knew that there were other kings in Oz. I suppose that a monarchal history makes sense, it just never interested me when I was younger. Was the Wizard not a real king then?"

"Oh no, the Wizard just came down from the sky—like you did, though not with a house and he didn't kill any witches."

"I suppose I have at least that to my name" Dorothy smiled.

"Oh yes—the second time in history that a Witch has been killed by a house" the Scarecrow smiled.

"Second?"

"Yes, but the first time wasn't nearly as fantastic and the house was not inhabited by anyone so wonderful as you."

Dorothy blushed slightly, unaccustomed to such compliments. "Oh you—why, being around all of this emerald and silver has turned you into a regular silver tongue! I never thought I'd see the day!" she exclaimed, giggling during the process. Scarecrow smirked and tipped his hat in jest.

"And did the first house fall out of the sky too?"

"No. To my best recollection, a witch enchanted it during one of her spells. The fireplace gobbled her up."

"That's just terrible!" Dorothy exclaimed, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"According to the fireplace, she was delicious," Scarecrow added, and Dorothy swatted playfully at her friend's straw stuffed arm. It was good to be around people who could make her laugh again. Their tour took up quite a bit of time and soon it was evening. To Dorothy's increasing delight, when the day grew dark the halls lit up magically with an ethereal light. The emeralds in the walls managed to grow green without casting off a green light. It was marvelous to watch. Scarecrow led Dorothy back to the study, which was also subject to the same fantastic light show. Dinner for three(Toto included) had been laid out for them. Once again, it was filled with foods that Dorothy did not recognize but was sure were delicious. She looked at Scarecrow's food questionably. Sensing her question, Scarecrow said,

"I do not require nourishment or sleep, but I can partake in both if I so choose. The magical property of my straw body dissolves the food so that it doesn't sit in my stomach waiting for a digestion that will never happen. And I like to keep my straw slightly misted, to make it less flammable. The royal…well, fashion care-takers have been trying to convince me to switch to silk for the longest time, as it does not burn."

"That sounds reasonable. Why don't you?" Dorothy asked as she took a seat adjacent to Scarecrow. Toto, who had woken up from the smell of food, was busily cleaning his dish.

"Well, I can see the wisdom in it. However, I suppose I'm just sentimental. I like straw—it's always been apart of me. Parting with would make me feel very naked. My clothing is all silk though," Scarecrow added, wiggling his silk glove covered hands.

"Can't they just enchant your straw to keep it from burning?"

"Well, they've tried. Unfortunately, most of the enchantments seem to mess with the magic that gives me life. I've been working on a solution in my spare time. Though I seldom get spare time anymore."

Dorothy pursed her lips in thought. "Is being king as demanding as you thought it would be?"

"I'm note sure what I thought it would be like, as I had very little chance to think about before the title was thrust upon me. It certainly is demanding however."

"But do you enjoy it?"

Scarecrow leaned back from his tray in thought. With his new glass eyes, Dorothy could see the evidence of the advanced mechanics of his brain working hard at an answer. He spun his spork between his fingers for a while, which gave Dorothy enough time to finish her dinner. After she was done, a lush looking dessert appeared in its place. Dorothy could never say no to desserts.

"Well—" Scarecrow finally said, clearly taking time to carefully plot his answer. "It's a difficult question to answer. I enjoy certain aspects of the title, and I really don't care for others. For example, I really enjoy the people I meet as king. I enjoy the vast amount of books that this city holds, and I enjoy helping to spread and gather knowledge from as many diverse places as possible. I enjoy some of the challenges that come with being King, like learning to negotiate with difficult people and learning how to manage numbers. However, the social aspect of being king can be very uncomfortable."

"How so?" Dorothy asked

"Well, as I said, I don't get as much time to spend pursuing hobbies as I would like. There is also the need to attend and throw large parties, which don't really interest me. I like meeting new people, but as King, I don't always get to be myself at these events—or even converse with my friends. Usually people ask me for favors, or try to influence an upcoming decision—it's mostly a way to bypass the regular court meetings that are supposed to be used to solve such issues. There are always people who want to debate with me too."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for sure. I'm sure you excel at debates."

"When I must I do, though I do not like debates. They are seldom ever held without the intention of arguing, and nothing is solved through arguing. I like _discussions_, but most people don't want to discuss things with me. Only to try and convince me that I am wrong just to say that they out smarted the _smart king_. Can I tell you a secret, Dorothy?"

"Of course Scarecrow. You may trust me to keep your secrets just as surely as I can trust you to keep mine."

"Well, sometimes I really don't like the responsibility of being a king. When you are a king, you don't belong to yourself. You belong to the people, and you live to serve the people. It is a privilege and an honor, but it is also a source of great worry and despair. There are times when I miss those days when I was traveling with you and Nick and Leonas so very badly."

"I have experienced similar times" Dorothy smiled. Realizing that he had been controlling most of the conversation, Scarecrow decided to ask Dorothy about her life.

"And you Dorothy, are you happy? Have you been happy?"

Like Scarecrow, Dorothy found this question to hard to answer. She told him of her wonderful set of uncles who looked out for her, how Miss Gulch had transformed from a villain to a friend, and how she had excelled at school even after being held back. She also told him of the on-going financial hardships of the farm, how she had been forbidden to talk about Oz, how Hunk had moved to the city, and how had attempted to cajole her into telling Oz related stories, even after she had sworn not to. When Dorothy recounted her dance disaster, Scarecrow's face deepened into a frown.

"A Winkie, you say?"

"Yes. Only, it looked and felt…off"

"How so?"

"Well it—it reeked of death. One of our chickens died underneath the house one time, and Zeke had to retrieve it. It smelt very much like that chicken had—of decay and earth. And its eyes! They were completely red, and it looked as though blood had congealed in its tear ducts. Later on, in a dream, I remembered that its arm had been nothing but bone and maggots! If it had not attacked Roman and me and had not stolen Toto, I would have thought it dead for sure! And I still have no earthly idea how it came to be there. I will have to remember to ask Glinda later."

"As will I. I'm sorry for interrupting, please continue."

And continue she did, though the rest of the story went quickly downhill. She detailed 's scheme to get her into his "crazy hospital", her sorrowful goodbyes with her family, the way that Ruth had turned on her, and the way that Miss Gulch had thankfully rode with her and to the station. She spoke about her first week at the school, and how her counselors kept trying to coax stories out of her. She spoke about the truth of her mother's death as revealed by , though she now did not entirely believe his story. She spoke of how had asked her for the Ruby Slippers, and how they had magically appeared in her trunk. Lastly, when Dorothy got to the tragic death of Penelope, her eyes watered and her voice became scratchy.

"Oh Scarecrow!" she coughed, "It was terrible! I've never seen something so awful in all of my life! I don't think that I'll ever forgot her face or her screams."

Scarecrow's heart ached with sympathy. In comparison to what Dorothy had gone through, dealing with temperamental nobles seemed like nothing. He hated that his dear friend had been made to suffer so much and to witness something so terrible. He hated the man she described as , and was sure that if he ever met him he would give him the nastiest put-down his enormous brain could conjure. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a silk handkerchief. Handing it to Dorothy—who immediately began to dab her wet eyes—Scarecrow tried his best to comfort his friend.

"Well, you're safe now Dorothy. No one will harm you here—your friends won't let them. And Toto is all right now. He was worried sick without you. When he arrived before you, I didn't know what to think. He was a little worse for wear, but otherwise in good health. I worried about you. I thought that you might be in Oz somewhere—in trouble. When Glinda told be that you were indeed in trouble, only in your world, I grew even more worried. I can protect you in Oz, but even the king's magic does not reach across worlds. But you're here now Dorothy, and Nick and Leonas will be here by tomorrow. It's a much needed reunion, for all of us."

Dorothy smiled weakly and sniffled. Toto had padded over when he heard her crying and curled up at her feet. _My friends and I will all be together tomorrow. Soon, my pain will be small fleck in comparison to my joy. There's no place like Oz._ Dorothy went to sleep that night in anticipation of the reunion. Meanwhile, a storm was brewing in Kansas.

_**A/N: **Jinjir is a character from the Oz books who does indeed lead a coup against the Scarecrow with an army of women, and she does use knitting needles. However, I made up a background for this story that would fit well into my story. Jack Pumpkinhead is also a character from the Oz books, and was featured in the 1985 film "Return to Oz". I'm going to try to use as many of the numerous colorful characters that inhabit Baum's world as possible, and limit OCs, as they can be messy. Thank you to everyone who has given this little project a chance. I hope to get the next chapter out tomorrow, and if not then, it probably will not get out until next week, as I have a large amount of homework and studying to do this weekend. I can most definitely promise that this story will be finished—and not in a few years time either. I've taken this on as my NNWM project(though this is naturally not a novel, it is still going to reach at least novella length). The next chapter will feature more Oz and some long awaited reunions, as well as more clues as to what the hell is going on behind the scenes. Until then, TTFN. _


	10. The Reunion

_**A/N:** So I realized after I viewed my chapters on that for some reason, has been filtering out the asterisks that I've been using for page breaks. Without these transition tools, my narrative can be a little confusing. I'm going to try something else and I hope that it will surpass 's filters. If it does, I'll edit the rest of the chapters. Character notes for this chapter. Tin Woodsman(or the Tin Man) is indeed identified as Nick Chopper in the books. The Cowardly Lion is not called "Leonas" in the books, but I wanted to give him a name as well. Additionally, in the 1939 film, the Wizard claims to be from Kansas. I wrote that he was from Omaha in the previous chapter because he hails from Omaha in the book. As this fic is in the WO movie section, I've been trying to keep as close to the film as possible without too many contradictions or deviations. However, a certain plot point that will be revealed in a few chapters relies on the Wizard being from Omaha. Lastly, another thankyou to **Jenn** for reviewing again! I'm two for two!I had always intended to finish this story, regardless of reviews. However, knowing that I've peaked someone's interests is an added bonus! _

**~Chapter 10: Reunion~**

"I'm sorry , but there is nothing that we can do as of the moment. We sent officer to check out the school you told us about and everything checked out. They had legitimate papers and permits, and Geoffrey Drundle is a man of high standing in this town. What's more, there was no one present that answered to the name of Dorothy Gale."

"How can that be officer!" Hunk exclaimed. After being given the boot at the Drundle Institute, Hunk returned to his dorm at the University and spent the night gathering his thoughts and plotting his course of action. He wished that there were a way in which he could contact Emily and Henry that very evening. However, they did not have a telephone on the farm—nor did most of their neighbors. A telegram could take anywhere from a few days to a week to reach that part of Kansas. The sticks were not a popular postal route. There was one person he could call however, though he did not have her number. Elmira Gulch owned her own private phone-line, which she would charge townspeople to use. However, when Hunk had taken a look at the phone directory, he found that she was not listed. In lieu of not being able to contact the farm or Miss Gulch, Hank decided that the next best course of action would be to go to the authorities. may have been able to deny Hunk—who was not a blood relative—access to Dorothy, but if Hunk could get the police to pull up Miss Gulch's number, he could get Miss Gulch to find Emily who could then give her authorization as Dorothy's guardian to Hunk—allowing him to return to the Drundle Institute uncontested. It seemed like a meticulous and trustworthy plan. When Hunk arrived at the station closest to the University the next morning, his carefully considered plan fell quickly apart. Not only would the police not pursue his case or grant him access to Miss Gulch's phone number, they also claimed that Dorothy did not reside at the institute!

"Now, don't make a ruckus . I realize that you're upset, but our office as done its best to investigate your claim. Are you sure that you are not mistaken? Perhaps you've confused the name of the institution?" said officer Bradley, who had been assigned to Hunk's case.

"Officer, I assure that I am not mistaken. As sure as I am here now, talking to you, I was talking to Drundle yesterday evening. He mentioned my niece by _name_, and also recognized me from his clinic in my hometown. And I can assure that her aunt and uncle—who have raised her since she was four and who have known for just as long—would not have mistaken who they sent their niece with! Please, I am begging you, you must do something more!"

Officer Bradley sighed. He placed his hands on his desk and laced his fingers together. Leaning forward, he looked Hunk directly in the eyes and said,

"I feel for your…situation, . However, you cannot file a missing persons report because the last time you saw Miss Gale was during the summer, and we know that she was not missing a few weeks ago. You are not a blood relative, nor are you her guardian in the eyes of the law, so you cannot ask the Drundle Institute to release any information or records regarding Miss Gale—who they are adamant does not stay there. Right now, all I have is your word against the word of a prominent member of Topekan society. Considering your lack of any legal relation to Miss Gale, your word carries very little weight. If you were her guardian, it would be different."

"But I could contact her guardians, if only you would find me Elmira Gulch's telephone number!"

"As I told you before , Miss Gulch owns a private line. In order to get her number, I'd need a warrant from a judge and I should warn you, Miss Gulch's older brother happens to be a judge in the Supreme Court. Your case is not high profile enough for me to want to bother _that _judge. He's a very temperamental fellow."

"Is there really _nothing _more you can do officer? Could you at least check the train records for October 6th? If I know what train she arrived on, then maybe—"

"I **am **sorry ," Office Bradley interrupted, "but there is nothing more I can do. Bring me the girl's guardians, and I'll be able to do more."

A disappointed Hunk somberly rose from his seat and shook hands with the officer who had been singularly unhelpful and left the precinct. On the street, Hunk noticed a clock in a nearby window. It was almost noon. He would have class soon, and he had midterms to prepare for. _There are some things more important than school, _he thought. In his heart, he knew that he could not live with himself until he had done everything he could to help Dorothy and that if he did not find her then it would be because he had not done everything he could. When he had last seen her during the summer he never imagined not being able to see her again. She was an important part of his life. Her struggles with her own education and subsequent success had inspired him to pursue his academic dreams. He had been there when Emily had brought her poor broken niece home, and it had been he would had first drawn a laugh out of her then timid mouth. She was a niece to him in all ways but blood. Had she been there with him, should probably would have told him to stay in school and leave her to worry about herself. But she wasn't there, and that quite decided things. By a quarter after noon, when his first class of the day was already in session, Hunk Pike was purchasing a ticket at Topeka's train station.

* * *

><p>Dorothy had dressed bright and early the following day. She wanted to be extra prepared for her friends' arrival. Scarecrow had said that both were expected to arrive around noon, as they were to meet up with each other on the path to the city and journey the rest of the way together. While she slept, Scarecrows "fashion police" had been through her trunk's meager contents. Unsatisfied, they had brought an entirely new wardrobe for her to enjoy. They also sent her a personal assistant whose purpose was to help her make prudent and "fashionable" choices. Her assistant was a munchkin woman named Brellya. Her hair was as pink as the wildflowers that grew near the barn on the farm back in Kansas, and her temperament—from what Dorothy could tell—was pleasant. After she had taken a bath in water scented with some fantastic aroma, Brellya had lain three outfits on her bed. Dorothy giggled veraciously when she ogled the dresses. They were ridiculously lavish and frilly. Brellya placed her hands on her hips and demanded,<p>

"What on earth are you laughing at Miss Gale? Are you in the middle of some sort of fit? Shall I bring you some water?"

Dorothy shook her head and waved her hand, all the while trying to get control of her rapturous giggles. After a few steadying breaths, Dorothy beckoned to the pile of dresses on the bed.

"It's just that—well, **these**."

"Lovely aren't they! The puce one is especially popular in the city's fashion circles at the moment."

"Well, they are lovely and I'm sure that some women look fantastic in such things. But I—well, I hardly think I have the height or the figure to pull off such a…well, _sophisticated _look. Don't you have something just a little simpler?"

Brellya opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She opened it again, and proceeded to close it. Dorothy did not want to offend her, for she had been very obliging. However, she could just not see herself in such ornate and…well, _poofy_ dresses.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings Brellya," Dorothy said hastily, "but I'm just not used to wearing clothing like these. Perhaps…well, maybe after I've settled in a bit more I'll feel more…inclined to wear such grand things. At the moment however, I'd really just feel more comfortable in something similar to the dresses in my trunk."

Brellya shuddered, looking askance at the trunk in question. "Aye, I've seen your _dresses_, and I must say that the palace stocks no such thing. Why, even the people who work in the kitchens are more fashionable than _those _things."

Fortunately, Dorothy was not particularly sensitive about her sense of style, so she took no offense to Brellya's comments.

"Surely you must have **something **more simple though—like the blue dress I was wearing yesterday, the one that Glinda made for me."

Brellya pursed her lips in thought and reluctantly nodded. Clearly, she had not intended to be debated with in regards to clothes considering her status as an "agent of fashion".

"Well, there are some summer dresses that are simple like the blue number you had on yesterday. Would you be adverse to ornaments in your hair, or lace stockings like the ones you wore yesterday?"

"No, I should think not. So long as my head isn't made too heavy, and so long as the stockings aren't too hot, I should be fine."

"Well, that's a relief! For a moment there, I thought that you were going to go walking around in a nightgown! Such a fickle thing you are!" Brellya said jokingly, and Dorothy smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Scooping up the grandiose dresses in her arms, Brellya made her way back to the wardrobe. While she did so, Dorothy took the opportunity to step into her shoes. Last night, before going to bed, Dorothy convinced herself to remove the Ruby Slippers. She couldn't be in them all of the time. Her feet had ached just from the activities of the day—and she had woken up late and spent half of it sitting down to meals! After the Penelope incident, Dorothy would not be too far from the slippers however. So, after removing them from her feet, Dorothy slipped then under the covers with her and underneath a pile of pillows. When she woke, she had forgotten where exactly she had stashed them and flew into a frenzied panic. She did find them eventually, and now she decided that she'd better put them on before she lost them again. When she stepped into them, she felt a gentle pulse of energy fill her being. She had never noticed it before, but the slippers invigorated her. _It must be the magic_.

Brellya brushed past Dorothy and deposited three more dresses onto the bed. Unlike her prior choices, these were far less complicated in design. One was yellow, which was pretty enough though Dorothy was sure it would clash terribly with her choice in shoes. Another was pink, and the last was white. The white dress itself was unusual. It appeared at first glance to be very plane, though in truth it was covered with very tiny opalescent beads that reflected the surrounding light softly. At a distance, Dorothy realized that the beads formed patterns on the dress. At some angles it appeared to be checkers, and at other angles it was clearly flowers. The craftsmanship of the dress was awe-inspiring. Tracing the object of Dorothy's eye's affection, Brellya smiled and said,

"Number three it is then."

* * *

><p>When Dorothy, Brellya, and a freshly groomed Toto left her suit, they found Jack Pumpkinhead waiting for them. He had been asked by Scarecrow to escort Dorothy to the welcoming hall, where they would then wait for their friends to arrive. Brellya excused herself, stating that she had hair crises to manage and fashion laws to uphold. Dorothy wondered, as the peppy little munchkin skipped away, how much of the latter statement was true. Were denizens of the Emerald City written tickets for bad fashion choices? Jack offered her a wooden arm with a smile, and Dorothy accepted with a grin. Fortunately, Jack's arms were very long, otherwise Dorothy did not think she could reach. His was so very tall, even under the high-ceilings of the palace.<p>

"Is you balance improved today?" Dorothy asked as Jack slowed his pace to prevent Dorothy from rushing her footing. His legs were also very formidable in length.

"Oh yes, thank you. Glinda helped to balance out the weight of my head. It should sit quite contentedly until it begins to rot."

"What do you do when it rots?" Dorothy queried.

"I replace it with a new Pumpkin. I grow lots of them, in the gardens here."

"And what do you do with all of the old heads?"

"I bury them in the ground. Since a part of me dies, I like to give each head a headstone."

"What do you write for the inscriptions?"

Jack waved his free hand in front of him, pretending to chisel words onto stone. This was very difficult to mime with only one hand, as you need both in order to chisel lettering.

"Here lies Jack Pumpkinhead's Pumpkinhead. May it keep for longer in the next life."

Toto barked his opinion of giving one's heads their own graves. Dorothy found it to be sweet, and rather sensible. If she were always loosing her head, she'd probably want to mark the place where it was buried too.

"If you loose your head, and you find a replacement pumpkin, who carves the face? You can hardly carve a proper face without eyes."

"No, definitely not a proper face. My creator Tip used to carve my faces for me. But Tip has been lost for awhile, and I have not been able to find him since I wandered into the Emerald City. Glinda carves my faces now. Do you think that she carves good faces?"

"Oh yes—very handsome faces, I should say."

Jack smiled and sighed happily. He was beginning to like this Miss Dorothy very much. She had not nagged him once, nor had she called him stupid or "squash headed"(which was an insult that always confused him, as it was more accurate than it was derogatory). She had complimented him twice, which was more than Jinjur ever did in a week. Jack thoroughly enjoyed nice people. Tip was a nice person too.

"Dorothy, may I ask you a question?" Jack said timidly. Even though she had yet to rebuke him, Jack was always leery about asking questions to people whose opinions mattered to him.

"Of course Jack"

"Will you be my friend? I am such a very good friend"

"Why Jack, I thought we were already friends" Dorothy smiled, and Jack took this to be a very positive yes.

* * *

><p>Geoffrey Drundle stood at window in his office, watching as the last officer left the premises. It was a gutsy thing to do he admitted. He had not suspected that the farm hick had enough courage to actually involve the police of <em>his <em>city. Clearly, he did not know just how much of the city was actually _his_. He had helped to fund the campaigns of Kansas's past two governors. He had hand selected the candidate for state senator, and ensured that the candidate won the election. He had put Washburn University on the map. He had supplied its impressive library with nearly a **third **of its collection. He was Topeka's most famous resident, who everyone knew by name. And the irony of it all was that he wasn't even from Kansas to begin with! No one in Topeka seemed to care however. In fact, very few people even knew that he was not born in Kansas, and even fewer still knew from where he actually hailed. Therefor, the police had been almost too easy to manipulate. They were all like clay in his formidable hands.

He heard the door to his office open behind him. He did not need to guess who it was. Only one person would dare not knock before entering.

"You should be minding the clinic," he said, turning to face his nephew. Steven was dressed in a white suite far too formal for a little mission in the middle of nowhere. His nephew had always been very particular about his dress however.

"They won't miss me for an hour or so. They think that I've stepped out to lunch. It's awfully slow over there you know, but full of plenty of nice people. Though I will say, I'm confused as to why they all seem to think that the terms 'doctor' and 'vet' are synonymous. I've had three dogs brought to me in the past week."

"It was dangerous for you to come here Steven. If someone sees you, they'll wonder how you came to be here so fast. The train ride alone is seven hours," Drundle replied.

Steven shrugged his shoulders and moved to sit on the office couch. Placing his arms smugly behind his head, Steven looked at his uncle humorously and asked,

"What's the matter uncle? Are you still upset about the other night? Because I didn't help you catch your _hallucination_?"

turned on his mouthy nephew sharply. "I was **not **hallucinating! I treat the mentally inept—I'm not one myself! I know what I saw, and _she _was here. I am sure of it! I only wonder how much she heard…"

"Oh come now, she couldn't possibly have been in the room," said Steven dismissively.

"Oh course she could have! You do not know the power of those slippers! They could make her invisible if she wanted them to. She could even be here, right now, laughing silently at me."

looked about him wildly and, despite his assertion that he was not like his patients, Steven found him to look rather like one of his many students.

"For goodness sakes, you look positively like a loon. She isn't here, and she wasn't in the room the other night either. You forget, I am the one who possesses magic. It is I—not you for all of your self-proclaimed knowledge on the subject—who would be able to detect any magic at work. The only magic at present is my own."

"Yes, well, it is I, **nephew**, who took you in when your father would not! Or have you forgotten, how he wanted nothing to do with his child from the land of 'emeralds' and 'gnomes'?"

"Naturally not, uncle," Stephen drawled, "as you see fit to remind me at every chance you get. To change the subject, as it is a **tired **one, there was an awful lot of local authority here today. Was it to do with the poor girl who died?"

"Penelope?" Drundle scoffed, and his nephew frowned.

"Why do you find this funny? I hardly find the poor girl's demise to be a subject of humor."

"Yes, well, you are young and inexperienced. I doubt if the girl's family will ever know that she's died. They were a wealthy sort you see, very powerful. I made him senator you know, and in exchange he handed me his troublesome daughter for my 'new school'. They've wanted nothing to do with her, afraid that she'd damage their reputation. No, I'll send them a letter from time to time, detailing her 'progress'. They'll be content with that, I'm sure. The parents who send their children to me don't **care **about them at all really."

"Miss Gale's family seems to care quite a bit. They asked me all about the type of city that Topeka was, and the if I had ever seen your school. They were very upset when they hadn't heard from her. If they weren't so ill financially, I would think that the aunt at least be on a train now, ready to tear you a new one."

laughed at the very notion. "The girl's family was easy to deceive. They are simpleminded as simpletons come. Though that Hunk—he's a fair shake cleverer than I had pegged him to be. It was because of him that there were so many of Topeka's finest here today. He came to see me the day she disappeared, demanding to see her. I knew that I could not allow that to happen, as she would immediately tell him to get help. I can fight him through the law just fine, but if he had brought her guardians here…well, that would have been most inconvenient. So I told him some lie about her not wanting to see him."

"So he brought the police? How marvelous! She must be a special girl indeed, to inspire so much love in people!" Stephen smiled

"What you call _love_, I call _foolishness_. It matters not now. The police will have turned him out, and that will be the end of it."

"I would not be so hasty to dismiss him uncle. As I recall, you just said only now that you thought yourself rid of him when you sent him away the other day."

"I hardly need your advice in this matter!" snapped. Stephen merely smiled and checked his pocket watch. heard his nephew magic away. As his ego would soon discover, he really should have taken his nephew's advice.

* * *

><p>Dorothy was all nerves and anticipation. She had been siting in the waiting hall for over two hours in the company of Scarecrow, Jack, and Toto. Several people had come and gone during the interment, all seeking a word with the King. Scarecrow was indeed a busy man. Earlier in the day, when he was busily reading through a mountain of paperwork, Scarecrow talked Dorothy through some of the processes involved with being king.<p>

"Normally, Lurday is reserved for going over requests for permits, preparations for upcoming benefits, civil requests, and so forth."

"I like to call it paper day," Jack contributed. He was sitting on the floor of the greeting hall, preferring the ability to spread his legs out rather than have them bent and immobile. He was sorting papers into separate stacks, though it took him much longer to read a page than it did the Scarecrow. Dorothy once fancied herself a speed-reader. After witnessing the rate in which Scarecrow turned pages, she felt positively sluggish.

"However," Scarecrow continued, "as today is a special week for friends, I've been trying to get all major articles of importance out the way. I will still have work to do on Lurday, but at least you'll be able to see me this way and I you. Last week, we were in this hall from an hour past sunrise until four hours past sunset."

"My pumpkinhead hurts just thinking about it." Jack sighed. Clearly, redundant tasks like sorting through paperwork was not his favorite activity. Periodically, Dorothy would catch him looking out of the window longingly. It was such a beautiful day outside. Even Dorothy wished that she could get some air, though she dare not leave in fear that she might miss her friends' arrival.

"What is Lurday? Is that a name for a day of the week here?" Dorothy asked.

"Indeed it is. It is a day named after the Fairy Queen Lurline, who created Oz. All important work is done on Lurday, which comes at the end of every week. The other days are Noonday, Freeday, Lightday, Starday, Rainday, and Funday."

"I had no idea! I never remember any days in Oz being referred to as anything but _days_ before."

"I'm not surprised, in hindsight" Scarecrow replied. "When you rescued me from my pole, I had no knowledge of days as anything but very long. Nick had lost track of all time when he rusted still, and Leonas slept so poorly, he probably thought that several days passed in a wink."

After Scarecrow demolished another pile of paperwork, Toto jumped to his feet and began to walk around the room. He would stop every few feet in order to listen for something. Dorothy watched his behavior in amusement, and eventually followed him around the room. Seeing what appeared to be significantly more interesting with paperwork, Jack took to following Dorothy following Toto around the room. The trio was so involved in their individual tasks, that none of them noticed the Scarecrow's bemused expression. He had gone to reach for yet another pile, only to realize that Jack was not at his sorting station. Trumpets sounded in the distance. Toto barked enthusiastically, which in turn cause Dorothy to jump in surprise—which caused Jack to jump in surprise. The trumpets sounded again, only this time the noise they made was noticeably closer. Toto continued to bark, and Dorothy glanced back at Scarecrow excitedly. Her friends had arrived. The reunion was at hand.

**A/N:**_Phew! I managed to finish this chapter just in time(though this one is a little more than half the length of the last chapter, which exceeded 7,00 words)! My next two days will be filled with homework, and the days after that will be filled with classes! So, to anyone that is following my little tale so far, don't expect another chapter until the later half of next week(the area of Thursday-Saturday). I am also going to go back and edit a few little mistakes I found in the first chapters, and hopefully I'll find a way to make my little segue devices work. A note about the Ozite days of the week-they're completely made up for the point of this story(the story about Lurline is not however). It just seemed appropriate that they'd have different names for their days, as the English speaking world's day names are based mostly off of mythology. I probably won't be using these names too much, as I don't want to confuse anyone(especially myself, for I get confused easily). The next two chapters of this story will go back and forth from Kansas and Oz. The Kansas side of the story will follow Hunk's new plan to get into the Drundle Institute and the Oz part will focus mainly only catching up with the rest of our trio. Glinda will pop in too, and hopefully she'll have the answers to some of the Dorothy's questions. ;)_


	11. Friends and Foes

A/N: _So a generous reviewer has pointed out an issue with some of my chapters that I've been working extra hard to fix but have—as of the moment—had absolutely no luck with. Sometimes, words are omitted from my dialogues. They aren't profanities or anything of that sort. In both cases where I've found this problem, they are simply character names. These are not blank in the original document, and I've tried to fix it via 's chapter editor to no avail. I'll keep working at it, but in the meantime I'll preview every chapter after it has been published. If I find a similar error, I'll just try to rewrite the sentence so it does not appear. I am going to try to edit some errors I spotted in the earlier chapters within the next two weeks, though my main focus will just be publishing chapters in a reasonable amount of time. Special thanks to __**Jenn, DaAmazingMeepers, **__and __**Emerald Cloud.**__ Your reviews have made this weary college student very happy. _

**~Chapter 11: Friends and Foes~**

Altogether, it had taken Hunk seven hours to reach the train station closest to the farm and another two hours to find a carriage that would take him into town. The ride was provided by a butcher he knew named Glen Miller, who had just returned from visiting his son in the city and had a carriage waiting for him at the station. The carriage ride then took an additional two hours, and by the time Hunk reached the town it was already eleven o'clock in the evening. Left alone in the town square, Hunk considered his options. He could walk to the farm and wake Emily and Henry up, but he'd risk being shot. Henry kept a loaded shotgun in the bedroom, afraid of brigands and monsters from his youth coming to steal him away during the night. While he very seldom spoke of it, Henry was a man afraid of his own mortality. He knew that he would go the way of the prophets someday, but not knowing exactly how we would go terrified him. There was so little control in his life. Despite his vast knowledge of agriculture inherited through his family line, Henry Long could barely control the success of his farm. The lack of control in regards to his livelihood was difficult enough to contend with. Add mortality to that equation, and you get a loaded shotgun. Unsure of his _own_ mortality if he were to wake the farm, Hunk decided to wait it out until early morning, when he knew the house would be awake. A cool autumn current blew through the dead square, picking up dirt in the wind. The harvest moon in the sky above bathed the dirt with its somber light, creating a miniature tornado. Hunk's eyes followed the tornado until another light cut through the illusion. The light's source was a partially cracked window down the street. Even without enough illumination to read the sign, Hunk was familiar enough with the layout of the area to recognize the window as belonging to the medical clinic. Was someone there? There had to have been, as no one would have risked setting fire to the dry Kansas wood by leaving a light on in the middle of the night. Having nothing better to do until early morning, Hunk decided to investigate the source and impose upon the owner for some shelter against the cool night air. He had been in such a rush to leave the city, he had forgotten to grab a suitable coat. The air in the sticks was freer than it was within the city, and brought with it more cold. Hunk supposed that the cooler temperature was partially due to the lack of industry in the middle of nowhere. There were no factories to warm the air, nor crowds of people to add their collective heat to the environment.

Hunk strode towards the clinic without hesitation, sure that he would be welcome. It was a small town, where everyone knew each other. And the regular attending physician, Drundle, who had recently made Hunk's hit list(as he undoubtedly made _his_), was still in Topeka. When Hunk reached the clinic's door, he knocked softly and waited for an answer. When he received none, he tested the handle and found the door to be unlocked. Inviting himself inside, Hunk closed the door behind him and walked towards a lit room at the end of the first corridor to his left. His steps were loud and awkward. Upon reaching the doorway, Hunk tentatively knocked on the door and said,

"Hello—anyone here?"

"Enter," an unfamiliar voice answered. Hunk obliged and stepped into what appeared to be the attending physician's office. In the shallow light cast by the lone candelabra on the stranger's desk, Hunk could make out a handsome young man—younger than himself he would wager—dressed in a white button-up and wearing white trousers. A jacket of the exact same shade of white was slung over the back of his chair. His hair was fair and his eyes shifted colors in the candlelight, jumping from brown to hazel in an instant. Hunk had never seen the man before in his life, which was odd as the town rarely saw new blood. Hunk removed his hat and approached the desk with an outstretched hand.

"How do you do, my name is Hunk Pike. I just arrived from Topeka not long ago, and I noticed the light on so I thought that I'd beg for some shelter from the cold night air."

The stranger smiled an accepted Hunk's hand. He beckoned for Hunk to occupy the chair opposite to the desk, to which Hunk gladly accepted. The bumpy carriage ride had worn him out and, if not for adrenaline, Hunk would usually be sleeping by now.

"Mr. Pike, is it? I've heard some talk about you since I've been in town. Apparently you're a real success story here, having achieved your dream of attending a big city college later in life. But I forget my manners—my name is Steven. I'm the temporary replacement for while he manages his business in the city."

"Pleased to meet you, Steven…?"

"Just Steven is fine. My surname is rather embarrassing you see, and I prefer that people laugh at my charming wit rather than my unfortunate birthright." Steven winked in jest.

"Well then, just Steven, I'm happy to make your acquaintance. How do you find our little town so far?"

"Oh, it's a wonderful break from the hustle and bustle of the city. I grew up in a small town myself, and I can appreciate the sense of family that one finds in secluded areas."

"Not too boring then?"

"Not at all" Steven smiled, setting his fountain pen aside. He had been writing something before Hunk had entered it seemed, and now he was distracting him.

"Oh, don't let me keep you from your work doctor. Though speaking of work, what keeps you working so late at night?"

Steven rose from his seat to stretch, afterwards gesturing to a cardboard box in the corner. Inside, a mother cat slept with several furry blobs curled up by her stomach. When he listened carefully, Hunk could hear faint purring.

"She was brought to me just a little after closing, by a most insistent member of your town fellowship named Elmira Gulch." Steven explained, and Hunk smiled. _Insistent_ was putting it very lightly. "Apparently, town physician allows means town vet, and I was ordered to treat Kleopatra with the highest priority."

"Do they teach cat anatomy at medical school?" Hunk mused.

"Oh no, I dare say they don't. However, I helped tend to many sorts of animals and livestock during my youth, so I'm not all that unfamiliar with the birthing process. It's actually a good thing that Miss Gulch thought to bring her here. Apparently, she usually handles such things herself—being possessed of many years of cat care—but she noticed something off about this birth. As it turns out, one of the kittens was turned around in the wound and was suffocating inside of its mother's stomach. Luckily, I managed to retrieve it safely, though it is a runt. But now that I've told you my story , I'm very interested to know why a man catches an afternoon train to the middle of nowhere when he could have just waited until the next morning and arrived while it was still light."

"Please, call me Hunk. As for the why—well, it's a complicated story. To summarize, there's some trouble in the family—with my niece specifically—that demanded urgent attention. So much attention that, as you can see, I didn't even dress for the occasion."

"Well, you're welcome to stay until the morning , as I'll be here all night monitoring my furry patients in the corner. You can take a clinic bed if you're tired and I'll wake you on my way out."

Grateful for the offer, Hunk rose and teetered for a few moments on his travel-weary legs. The last two years at the University had served to diminish his athletic build some, so an eleven-hour journey was especially wearisome. Not to mention the fact that he had spent the entire time worrying about Dorothy, and what that dubious school was doing to her.

"I think I'll take you up on your offer doctor. My mother always taught me not to fight a physician's orders."

Before Hunk left the room, Steven remarked,

"She must be a special girl, you're niece, to send her uncle running at the drop of a hat."

Turning, Hunk yawned and smiled.

* * *

><p>The reunion had been filled with exclamations, barking, wobbly pumpkinheads, and celebration. Like her reunion with Scarecrow, Dorothy found her friends to be somewhat altered in appearance but ultimately the same comrades from her memories. The Tin Woodsman( who now went by Nick Chopper) had never shone so marvelously. Since becoming King of the Winkie Kingdom, his metal body had been completely re-purposed. His arms were no longer completely cylindrical, but instead showed a greater resemblance to the arms of a human male, with subtle hints of definition. He still wore his ticking heart proudly on the left side of his chest for all to see. Someone who did not know him might mistake this display as a sign of vanity, though all who knew Nick knew that it was a reminder to himself to always follow the wisdom of his heart. The Cowardly Lion (now known as Leonas the Brave), seemed somehow larger to Dorothy. His presence seemed to demand the attention of those around him, though he was still incredibly modest and downplayed his courage and influence greatly. He still wore the Wizard's meager medal proudly. The word <em>courage<em> managed to never be too covered by his voluminous mane. Unbeknownst to Dorothy, her friends saw a change in her too. Later during the celebration, when Jack Pumpkinhead(who had stayed to enjoy the festivities) was entertaining Dorothy with a story of the evil witch Mombi, the trio(Scarecrow, Nick Chopper, and Leonas) talked amongst each other.

"She is so grown! I forgot how much organic life-forms grow!" Nick sighed, though not sadly. Sighing was merely in his nature.

"Yes, I know. I was very surprised when I saw her. Even though it goes beyond logic, I somehow expected her to look the same" Scarecrow replied.

"She's still the same Dorothy to me," Leonas added. As a lion, her slight growth in height did not particularly strike him, and he supposed that his feline eyes perceived things differently than other eyes might. Her personality though, while largely the same, did seem somewhat altered. Not for bad—just altered.

"You're right, she hasn't changed too much in appearance. I wonder though…she seems more mature now" Nick sighed.

"Indeed she is. From what I've gathered from our conversations, she's had a great deal of motivation to mature." Scarecrow said. Before he could explain his statement, Dorothy walked over with a smile on her face.

"Did you know that Jack was made to scare a witch? I couldn't imagine him even scaring a fly!" Dorothy giggled, and Jack strode next to her to join the conversation.

"I couldn't even scare Mombi, let alone a fly. I think I frustrated her, but that isn't the same thing."

"Sometimes, frustration is a great deal more scary than fear," Scarecrow said sagely, and Jack tapped his head in thought.

"How can anything be more frightening than fear?" Jack finally asked. To this, Scarecrow replied,

"By making fear seem less important. When you're frightened, your friends may cheer you up. But when you're frustrated, sometimes there's just no solution in sight. If there were a solution, you probably wouldn't be frustrated. It's a great deal more frightening to be unable to find a solution to your misery than it is to be able to find the solution in good friends."

"But what if you don't have good friends?" Jack queried.

"Good friends are easy to find," Nick added, "so long as you have an open **heart, **and love them for all of who they are."

"And a lot of **courage, **so that you may approach strangers with the hope of camaraderie and defend your comrades from those who would hurt them" Leonas said.

"And the **intelligence **to use both of those traits." Scarecrow smiled.

"Hmm…I don't get it" Jack stated. However, he was content in not _getting _certain things. Sometimes in life, you just don't _get _something. Unless it is especially important that you _get _it, you needn't worry about _getting _it at all. Dorothy seemed to think the lesson important however, for she saw fit to add her own opinion on the matter.

"Well Jack, that's because they left out the most important part of all. You have to have a sense of **home **and **family. **With an idea of family, you'll know how to keep your friends when you meet them. And with a sense of home, you'll know where you can always find them. Because your friends are your family, and your family is where you home is." Dorothy added, and the she and her friends looked at each other knowingly. The knowledge from their journey may have condensed into a few simple sentences, but they were the most important sentences that each of them had ever learned to speak.

* * *

><p>Steven made good on his promise to wake Hunk up just before the sun rose. Hunk had been so tired that he had not heard the cacophony of noise that Miss Gulch's motor car had made when it pulled into the clinic during the wee small hours of the morning. She had come to check the progress of her beloved cats and to return the newborn kittens to a less "sterile" and "uninviting" environment. Hunk had bumped into Miss Gulch and her mewing clowder of cats on his way out of the clinic and, as always, she didn't look particularly pleased to see him. But then, she didn't ever seem particularly pleased to see anyone who did not have whiskers.<p>

"Well, if it isn't Hank. I thought you were supposed to be living it up in the city. How nice of you to come grace our little town with your celebrity" Elmira said in her usual blunt manner. She was not one for tact and diplomacy. Elmira Gulch said what she wanted when she wanted to say it and _precisely_ how she wanted to say it.

"It's Hunk Miss Gulch, and I'm hardly a celebrity"

"I'll say! George Washington—now there was a celebrity. Did you know that he was originally going to be buried in the Capitol? There's a tomb there and all. But then, I suppose you would know that, being a _local celebrity_ and all. Even if you are _hardly_ a celebrity" She sniffed. As if agreeing with their mistress, the kittens began to mew especially vocally from the box. Distracted by her furry grandchildren, Elmira turned away from Hunk and promptly proceeded to ignore his presence.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you Miss Gulch" Hunk said with very little seriousness. He began to walk down the main street towards the direction of the farm. It was still fairly dark outside, but light enough for Hunk to find his way. A few minutes into his trek, his thoughts were disturbed by the guttering motor of Miss Gulch's motorcar. She pulled up beside him and sneered out of her window.

"Where are you off to so early Harold?"

"It's Hunk, Miss Gulch. I'm just heading towards the farm" Hunk replied wearily. He had slept very poorly during the night, taunted by nightmares of things that didn't make sense: goblins, witches, gremlins—the works. At present, he wasn't in his normal chipper mood. Such a mood was generally required to deal with a person as generally unpleasant as Elmira Gulch.

"Well don't go on blocking the road! We only have one in this nowhere little town. Climb inside" Elmira ordered. Hunk gawked momentarily. When she saw fit to honk her horn, Hunk decided that he would take what was given to him.

In the motor car, the ride to the farm only took a few minutes. The morning air was so cold that the windows of the motor car began to fog. The entire ride saw the car's human inhabitants silent, though its feline inhabitants meowed up a storm. Hunk thanked Miss Gulch as she stopped to let him out, and she was quick to speed off down the long stretch of dirt road towards he residence. The car had piqued the curiosity of the Zeke and Hickory, who were out on the farm working at various tasks. When they saw Hunk, they cried out in greeting.

"Hunk! What in the world are you doing here! We weren't expecting you until Christmas!" Hickory exclaimed. He cleaned his dirty hands on his trousers and embraced Hunk in a hug.

"Nevermind what he's doing here," Zeke cut in, coming to stand next to the two, "what about Dorothy?"

Before Hunk could answer either of his friends' questions, Henry emerged from the house. He too was glad to see Hunk, and came over to greet him.

"Hunk, what are you doing here? I thought that your semester didn't end until December. And what about Dorothy? Have you heard from her, have you visited the school?"

Zeke and Hickory seconded Hunk's questions. However, once again, before Hunk could answer, he was interrupted by the arrival of Emily—who had been tending to their milk cow.

"Hunk? What on earth—you should be in Topeka! But nevermind that, have you heard from Dorothy?"

"That's what I asked!" Zeke said

"Me too," Henry contested.

"Me first" added Hickory. Hunk's head tried to grasp the right words, but it seemed like everytime he moved to speak someone else would interrupt. Realizing the pointless direction of the current exchanged, Emily intervened.

"QUIET! Stop crowding the boy. What does it matter who asked what first? All that matters is that our questions are answered. Now Hunk, there are still some pancakes in the kitchen—you must be famished. Let's all sit down and you can take your time answering _everyone's _questions."

_You'll need to be sitting down_, Hunk thought. He followed Emily into the kitchen—after which the boys followed him. He knew that he was about to break some very unsettling news. While he ate the cold pancakes offered to him, Hunk used all of his considerable brainpower to try to figure out how to say just what needed to be said.

* * *

><p>The rest of the evening progressed rapidly. There were simply not enough hours in the day. Though they had been separated for many years, the four friends found themselves quickly falling into familiar routines. Scarecrow and Nick in particular found themselves rehashing a conversation that they had many times during their journey and during the subsequent years.<p>

"I cannot comment upon having any physical representation of a heart, though I do feel. The magic that controls me enables me thus. Therefor, having experienced both love and intelligence, I ultimately feel as though love is nothing without the latter, whereas intelligence does not need love to strive" said Scarecrow.

Leonas and Dorothy smiled at each other, as they were intimately familiar with the discussion of the value of a heart verses the value of a brain. In their little discussions, it was never in the interest of Scarecrow or Nick to convince each other that the other was wrong in their opinion. During the first half of the discussion, Dorothy had leaned towards Leonas and whispered,

"Why do you think it is that they still continue to have this discussion, even though it they do not intend to convince each other of anything? I would have thought that they would have found themselves satisfied by now in knowing that their opinions differ."

"Truthfully, I don't think they even know. It might be that neither of them are really sure that their individual outstanding traits are really better than the other, and they need to keep having this conversation to help reaffirm their beliefs." Leonas added sagely with his unique feline wisdom. Sometimes it was easy to forget that a lion is, after all, a very large cat. And cats have the tendency to know things that others—even vastly intelligent men like Scarecrow—do not. Jack, who had quickly grown bored of the conversation, was entertaining Toto. Toto found Jack just as amusing as Jack found him. Meanwhile, Nick and Scarecrow continued their age-old discussion.

"And while I may no longer have a physical representation of a brain, I was once possessed of both a physical heart and a physical brain—and I am now capable of using both intelligence and love. It is true, that intelligence may be able to function in the absence of love, by happiness cannot. And without happiness, I would much rather be stupid" Nick added.

"But you need intelligence to know how to keep happiness once you find it" Scarecrow interjected.

"And you need love in order to grow happiness to its full potential."

"Both are very true statements indeed, and I think that we can all agree that love and intelligence go hand in hand with one another" a lofty voice cut-in. Dorothy turned to find the voice's owner. Glinda had strolled into the hall in her usual glamorous fashion, her very being radiating wisdom and beauty. Toto trotted along Glinda, leading her towards the table. _Thankyou for stopping them_, he seemed to say. _This has been going on for an hour! I can't take it anymore!_

With a flourish of her wand, Glinda reset the hall's table with a variety of new desserts. A bell's chime radiated from the city, signaling ten minutes until the turn of the hour. It had grown dark long ago and the hall shone with the same unearthly light that had Dorothy transfixed during her first night in the palace. Jack returned to his seat next to Scarecrow, and Toto took his place on Dorothy's lap. He had a special chair set out for him, though he had seemed hesitant to keep too far away from Dorothy since her return. He had spent more than two weeks away from her and—unbeknownst to Dorothy—he had been just as worried about her as she was him. Glinda's intrusion had put an end to Scarecrow and Nick's conversation, and dessert was spent full of laughter and mirth. Another bell chimed, signaling the turn of the hour. It rang once for every hour past, and as it did Dorothy's vision shifted in and out of focus. Over her friend's laughs she could hear another distinct set of voices. Furrowing her brow in concentration, Dorothy attempted to separate the intruding conversation.

"—_not ready yet. She needs more time to flourish, more time to stew" _the unfamiliar voice sounded female to Dorothy, though the confusion surrounding the event left her uncertain. She was very certain of the owner of the next voice.

"_We can't wait too long! The more time she has there, the more time she has to acquire aid. Why not just kill her and take them! It is in the witch laws!" _That was most definitely , and if they were any doubt it was soon banished by the proceeding words.

"_Quiet Drundle! I do as I see fit, just as I saw fit to employ you, even against my mother's best council. Or do you question my judgements? I do so __**hate**__ doubtful servants."_

"_No, not at all my Lady," _Drundle quickly amended. It was clear from his tone of voice that he was more than a little intimidated by the woman he spoke with. Subconsciously, Dorothy felt satisfaction at the thought that someone was causing to feel fear, just as he had struck fear in the hearts of so many of the girls condemned to his "special school".

"_Good.I would hate to be burdened with the task of replacing you. Though that nephew of yours—he has __**definite **__potential." _The woman laughed a twisted sort of laugh—one filled with joy and something altogether nasty reminded Dorothy of the many times in which Melanie Frankly would laugh at her and Ruth across the school yard with her brainless flock of followers.

Before Dorothy could grasp anymore of the conversation, her thoughts were shaken by a hand that lightly brushed her shoulder. Coming out of her reverie, Dorothy met the eyes of her worried compatriots. Scarecrow, whose hand had brushed her shoulder, stood nearest.

"Dorothy, are you alright? We've been talking to you for a few minutes now, but you've been very unresponsive. You looked…lost."

"Yes, yes I'm alright." Dorothy replied, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly, she felt very sleepy. "It's just that—well, I thought I heard someone else talking—someone other than all of you. I wasn't sure at first, but the more I concentrated the more of the conversation I could hear. I don't know the context of the conversation, so it didn't make a whole lot of sense."

"Who were talking?" Jack piped in, suddenly very interested in the conversation. It seemed a great deal more exciting to him than philosophical discussions involving the importance of certain attributes.

"Well, I didn't recognize one of the voices, though I think it was a woman's voice. The other voice was 's voice."

Nick and Leonas had been partially informed of Dorothy's experience during their reunion. They knew enough to recognize as a very unpleasant person. Toto whined quietly at the mention of the name. It had almost become a profane word since Dorothy had arrived.

"Drundle, did you say?" Glinda asked. She floated over to Dorothy's seat and offered her a levitating glass of water. Dorothy drank gladly, for not only was she suddenly very tired—she was also parched.

"You know him Glinda. He was the cruel doctor who had Dorothy locked-up" Scarecrow said. At the words _locked-up_, Nick looked as though he wanted to cry. Leonas let out a deep growl, echoing Toto's muffled whines.

"Yes, that is true. Though now that I hear it again, I am sure that I have heard that name prior to learning of your recent hardships." Glinda said thoughtfully, and all eyes landed on her—anxious for an explanation. Glinda smiled placating and touched her wand to Dorothy's chair. Its legs became animated and it began to walk out from underneath the table. Toto barked in surprise, and Dorothy held onto the armrests.

"But enough of that for now. You look positively exhausted. It has been a big day for all of you. Sleep now, and we'll talk in the morning."

"But—" Dorothy began, and Glinda raised her finger and smiled like a stern mother.

"In the morning," she commanded. Dorothy wanted to protest more, but her eyes soon became heavy with sleep. The last thing she saw before she drifted off were the smiling faces of her friends. The entire day had been like a fantastic dream, and Dorothy sleepily hoped that she would not discover that the day had been just that—a dream! Wrapped in the comforting cloak of slumber, she hoped that she could see those same smiling faces everyday of the rest of her life.

_**A/B: **Yay, I'm finished! It wasn't as long a chapter as I thought it would be, which is a relief because I don't think I would have found the time or the energy to write anything too much longer than this. The next chapter involves a lot of plot explanation, so I'm sure that it will probably be twice as long as a regular chapter. No character notes for this chapter, so I hope that it was enjoyable and I hope that I can continue to command your attention until my little tale runs its course. TTFN!_


	12. The Great Book of Records

~Chapter 12: The Great Book of Records~

_**A/N:** Happy Holidays and Happy New Year everyone! I hope that your Yule season has been filled with merriment, charity, and grace. I would like to assure everyone who has been following my little Oz project that I most certainly did not forget about the story. Finals hit like a storm after Thanksgiving, and they occupied most of the first two weeks of December. There were several times while I was writing notecards or working on one of the many essays I've written during my college career, when my fingers were itching to write something remotely creative. But alas—I had to stifle all of my creative urges in order to get through the semester, after which I was completely exhausted. I tried to pick this story up several times in the first week out of school to no avail. I was plum tired out, and bereft of inspiration, so I decided to rest for a while before coming back to this story. I have to admit, this chapter is a little forced, because I knew that if anything was ever to be written that I would have to just start writing until things started flowing organically. Anywho, I'm sorry for the wait. I intend to make as much progress on this story as possible before I return to school at the end of January, so expect some consistent updates for a while. _

The atmosphere of the small, clustered kitchen of the farmhouse hung heavily. If it weren't for the dry autumn air, Hunk would have sworn it was actually humid, the air was so heavy. Whatever joy had been felt at his arrival was quickly smothered with a string of cumbersome emotions after he had delivered the news he had traveled all night to bring. He had told them everything, from his forceful dismissal from the Drundle School, to the claim that Dorothy no longer wanted to see him—a claim so ridiculous that none of them could entertain it—to the precious little advice the police could offer him. Unlike the first few moments of his arrival, no one interrupted Hunk during his telling of the events that had transpired.

Several minutes had passed since he had finished the entirety of his tale. Finally, Emily broke the silence. The quaver in her voice was evident despite her best efforts to hide it, and while she spoke, Henry kept a hand on her shoulder, as if he was afraid she might fall back.

"This can't be right. It just can't be. You must have gone to the wrong school. Topeka is a big city—I'm sure there are plenty of private institutions. And Drundle can't be too uncommon a name."

"I wish it were so Emily," Hunk began, "but I just don't see how I could have been mistaken. He knew me from his time here, and he knew Dorothy by name."

"Of all the nerve-Dorothy not wanting to see you! What a con!" Zeke snarled. He had become so red from anger during Hunk's story that his cheeks looked like radishes.

"Wasn't there anything more that the police could do? For goodness sakes, Dorothy is practically missing!" Hickory whispered, perhaps because a whisper was all the volume he could muster.

"No, there wasn't. Apparently, as I have no legal connection to Dorothy, and because I haven't seen in her a long while, I wasn't fit to file a missing person report. What's worse, the police did interview and he claimed that Dorothy wasn't even at the school. The word of a famous Topekan seems to take precedence over that of some nobody student."

"Balderdash—why, you're just as much Dorothy's family as Emily or Henry." Zeke barked. His face had grown even redder, which made the whites of his eyes sharp and rather frightening. Emily brought her handkerchief to her mouth to cover her trembling lips, and looked at Henry searchingly. He had been the only one not to speak. He looked around the small kitchen from face to face before reaching Emily's eyes. Something silent transpired between them, and Henry said rather matter-of-factly,

"We're going to Topeka."

* * *

><p>Dorothy Gale found herself in her Emerald Palace suite when she awoke the next day. Her mind was foggy and her eyes were sticky with rheum, which was an altogether uncomfortable feeling. She tiredly tried to remove the goo in question with her still partially asleep hands. When she was younger, Dorothy and most other children her age used to attribute the unpleasant substance as the result of the sleeping dust that the Sandman used to lull children and adults alike to sleep. She wondered absentmindedly—while she removed the last of the dried goo that was keeping her eyelashes shut—if Oz, being a place of magic, had something or someone like the Sandman. She'd have to remind herself to ask the Scarecrow later. <em>Scarecrow?<em> Dorothy quickly rose out of bed, disrupting Toto in the process. He barked grumpily, as if to say, "that's the last time I sleep on your lap".

The last thing she remembered, she was sitting in the dining hall with all of her friends and…and what? Vaguely, Dorothy remembered someone else being there. No, two someones. Voices. In a quick flash of realization, Dorothy recalled the vision with perfect clarity. had been talking to a woman, one who scared him very much. She felt as though they were talking about her, but before she could hear anymore she was brought back to the present by someone…the Scarecrow, she thought. Afterwards, her body and especially her mind felt laden and encumbered. She remembered Glinda promising her that they'd talk in the morning, and morning it was. Dorothy took a few steps to fully waken her legs and then promptly headed towards the washroom. Toto, still cranky from his abrupt wake-up call, did not deign to join her.

The reflection that greeted her in the large vanity was startling to say the least. She must have tossed and turned an awful lot during the night. Her hair looked like a frantically built beehive, and some of the eye rheum that she had thought she'd removed was smeared over her right cheek. She had fallen asleep in her lovely beaded dress, and the ruby slippers still clung tightly to her feet. Frowning, Dorothy began to slowly work the tangles out of her hair. She had a feeling that if she wet her hair with a knotted mess on her head that it would be even harder to manage. Even the Cowardly Lion's—or Leonas, as he now was known—mane was not this messy when she, Nick, and Scarecrow first encountered him sleep deprived in the forest. After working out the most stubborn knots, she walked over to the tub. She could not see any knobs, or even any soaps. Her bath had been drawn for her yesterday, and she hadn't been paying attention to how it was done. She did remember hearing Brellya talk to herself, however. Dorothy was struck by an idea. In Kansas, the idea would have seemed positively ridiculous. But this wasn't Kansas—this was Oz, land of the ridiculous and the fantastical.

"Water, please?" Dorothy asked, her voice hoarse from sleep. As if anticipating her thirst, the claw-footed tub not only filled itself, but a glass of bubbly water materialized in her hand. She greedily sipped from the glass and felt the fantastic sensation of the bubbling water popping inside of her mouth. The tub was filling steadily, but stopped midway. Dorothy frowned and said,

"I'll need more than that, if you don't mind."

The tub did not respond, though Dorothy half expected it to. After a few more minutes of silence, a knock at her bedroom door caused her to jump and let out a little shriek. Toto barked once or twice, though only half-heartedly. Dorothy peaked out of the bathroom door and called,

"Who is it?"

"Brellya!" chirped the chipper response.

"Oh! Do come in!" as soon as Dorothy said so, the doors magically opened. It seemed as though most things in Oz(or in the Emerald City atleast) responded to vocal commands. Brellya strode in, perfectly made-up in an emerald green dress. She was wearing her official, "consultant" sash. How she managed to make her pink hair and rosy complexion work so well with green Dorothy did not know. She did make it work however, and she glowed like a perfectly made up porcelain doll.

"Good morning Dorothy. The King has assigned me to be your personal consultant for the rest of the week, so I thought I'd see if you were up so I could help you get ready for breakfast. We're going to have oodles of fun together-you wait and see. I promise that I'll get you into a marvelously poofy dress before the week is done."

Something in the way that Brellya's eyes glistened with mischief and determination told Dorothy that she was dead serious. She'd have to watch out for Brellya, otherwise she might find herself rolling down the halls of the Emerald Palace in one of those ridiculously puffy, hoop-skirt dresses.

"Have you started your bath?" Brellya asked, noting the open bathroom door. Dorothy looked over her shoulder and replied,

"I thought I had, but it stopped filling halfway through and I can't get it to start again. Either I'm doing something wrong or…well, that's probably it."

Brellya laughed and skipped past Dorothy into the aforementioned room and Dorothy turned and followed. When Brellya procured her attention, she turned to the bath and said in a clear voice,

"Show me today's soaps, please."

Several soap dispensers magically appeared on the wall and Dorothy gasped in delight.

"The tub stops filling halfway so you can choose your soaps," Brellya explained. "There is a different selection available each day, as the Palace's perfumers are constantly whipping up new fragrances. If you have a particular favorite though you can always request it specially. You can even visit them sometime and help put together your own fragrance. Usually there's a fee, but seeing as you're the king's privileged guest, I'm sure they'll see you free of charge."

"That's wonderful, as I would have nothing with which to pay them anyway." Dorothy smiled, moving closer to the tub in order to examine the available soaps. She did not recognize any of the names. There was: Sophisticated in Green, Hoople extract, Quixotic Exotic, Royal Medley, Grandiose Grample, and Luscious Lux. Dorothy bent forward to sample each fragrance, dispensing small amounts on her palms and arms. While she did so, Brellya continued.

"No, I suppose your world's currency wouldn't work here. What is the name of the place you are from again? It's something strange. Kanpas?"

"Kansas. The specific part of Kansas I'm from is a little farming community called Windybluff*." Dorothy took a big whiff of Quixotic Exotic and sneezed. It was spicy and pleasant, like mulled cider. The strength of the spices left a burning sensation in her nostrils, and she promptly decided that she'd be best off leaving such a strong scent for another day.

"What do people farm in Windybluff? Wind?"

Dorothy giggled, and Brellya frowned in confusion. It seemed like a perfectly logical question to her, and Dorothy decided to explain the cause of her laugh.

"Kansas isn't like Oz—it doesn't have fantastic things like lunchbox trees, magic, and expert fashion 'consultants'. It is a rather boring place really, though the fields can be awfully pretty in the Spring, the winters are especially harsh where I live. It's called Windybluff because we get a lot of wind all year round, especially during the autumn. That's why most houses have storm cellars. So we don't harvest anything fantastic like the wind itself, only basic foods like potatoes, corn, lettuce—that sort of thing."

"I see." replied Brellya, trying to sound as polite as possible, when in truth she thought that Kansas sounded like one of the most drab places she had ever heard of. No consultants? How did people know what was fashionable to wear? Dorothy took a final accounting of the fragrances and made a decision.

"Grandiose Grample, please"

The tub responded with amazing speed, dispensing a big dollop of the chosen fragrance into the basin before continuing to fill the tub up.

"Good choice" Brellya smiled. "I designed that fragrance myself. While you're getting washed up, why don't I go and lay out some fantabulous dresses for you?"

"That sounds great" Dorothy said appreciatively. As Brellya hurriedly dashed from the room, Dorothy called after her, "nothing too poofy!"

She heard Brellya groan behind the now closed door, and Dorothy smiled with satisfaction. Brellya might get her way and see Dorothy in one of those ridiculously adorned dresses by the end of the week, but not today.

* * *

><p>Dorothy managed to talk Brellya down to a fairly modest dress. It helped that the dress was in fact pink, which was naturally Brellya's favorite color. Dorothy did not usually care much for pink, but this particular shade was very pleasant and cool. Brellya called it <em>dusk rose<em>. The dress itself was very beautiful, though puffier than the lovely white beaded dress she had worn yesterday. It had an empire waistline, elbow length sleeves, and cut off at her knees. If it weren't for the length, Dorothy would have imagined a heroine from a Victorian era novel wearing something similar. Once again, she wore her ruby slippers, though surprisingly the dazzling red of the slippers did not class with the pink fabric. Her leggings were white and covered with beaded flowers, and Brellya had insisted on curling her hair. Dorothy hadn't minded though—it reminded her of Ruth's hair. _Ruth_…It still saddened her, the way they parted. She had really thought Ruth a friend, but now…well, what did it matter? She knew who her real friends were, and she was back with them again.

Brellya walked with Dorothy towards the dining hall. She had told Dorothy, while expertly pining and ironing her curls, that Scarecrow was waiting for her. Toto trotted behind them, his paws patting gently against the cool floor. At some point in time he decided that he forgave Dorothy for almost catapulting him out of his slumber that morning. Dogs forgave very easily, and unless you did something very offensive to them they would always remain loyal and forgiving. As much as Dorothy liked cats, she could never get over the fact that their temperaments were generally so different from dogs. Whereas a dog would almost always forgive, cats were a mixed bag of tricks. Some would forgive readily, while others would plot their revenge. For that reason, Dorothy had kept Toto well away from Miss Gulch's cats after she returned from Oz. She still wondered if that noble Queen—the prima donna of Miss Gulch's brood—wasn't still waiting for the day when she could catch Toto unawares. Five years was a long time to plan, and cats have the intelligence to use that time wisely.

The Palace was much busier than Dorothy had seen it in the past two days, though unbeknownst to her(as the enormous scope of the palace was still very dizzying to a girl from a plain town like Windybluff), Brellya had chosen a more commonly accessed route to the dining hall. Several people stopped their work to greet Brellya and Dorothy, and more than several stopped to whisper at their approach. After the third such instance, Brellya smiled over her shoulder and said,

"Don't let it distract you too much Dorothy—you're kind of a celebrity here. After you've been here long enough, the whispering will stop. That is, unless you plan on slaying anymore evil witches in the near future."

"Are there more evil witches?" Dorothy asked, slightly startled. She didn't know why exactly, but the thought brought up some apparently causeless, unsettling feeling that had been lingering inside of her for a while.

"Oh yes, not many though—Glinda keeps them in check for the most part. A particularly nasty one used to skulk around the Gilkin country, but no one has heard from her in a while."

Toto barked at a nearby dog, who had been dyed green. He was wearing a top hat, and Dorothy felt has though she could hear the laugh in Toto's bark. He quickly quieted, however, when the green dog rose and tipped his top hat in greeting. From then on until they reached the dining hall, Toto trotted just a little closer to Dorothy. As they rounded a corner and made their way down a beautifully carved spiral staircase, Dorothy commented,

"It certainly is a relief to know that Glinda is around, isn't it?"

"Oh yes. Don't get me wrong, our king is a fantastic king—better than the Wizard ever was. But even though he is made of magic, he isn't a magically inclined fellow himself, and frankly would be very little good in any fight—especially a fight with a witch. He has a good heart though to help govern that sharp brain, and the people rather love him for hit."

Dorothy smiled, taking pride in the praise given to her friend. He had come along way from the days when he was nailed to a post in some foreign field, thinking of ways to ineffectively scare crows. They reached the dining hall at last, and she and Brellya parted ways. Even though Brellya would be accompanying her for a week she needn't go everywhere that Dorothy went, and she still had other people to "consult". The grand doors opened at Dorothy and Toto's presence, and Toto trotted in the hall in front of her. Clearly, he did not fancy another run in with the green dog gentleman. There were some things that you couldn't prepare a dog from a little farm town for.

The Scarecrow was alone in the hall, and instead of sitting at the head of the table he sat in the middle. It did not surprise Dorothy that her modest friend did not like to be the center of attention. He was absorbed in some paper work, and hadn't noticed Dorothy or Toto. Dorothy crept towards him and waited until she was directly behind him to speak.

"If you don't like sitting at the head of the table you should consider making it round like King Arthur did."

Scarecrow jumped in his seat, spilling his water in the process. Dorothy stifled a laugh and looked around for something to help clean the mess. She found a towel on a nearby serving tray, but when she moved to help dab up the spill she found it already gone.

"The tables are magicked to clean-up messes." Scarecrow smiled. He beckoned for Dorothy to sit next to him, and she did so gladly. He clapped his hand, and a four-course breakfast materialized. The people of Oz really seemed to love food, as Dorothy noted that every meal she had eaten so far had at least three courses. Her stomach wasn't complaining, but if she didn't watch he appetite her waistline soon would.

"I'm sorry that I startled you. I didn't mean—well, I _did _mean to, in all truth. But I didn't mean for you to spill your drink."

"No harm done! As king, I have to be prepared for regular scares." Scarecrow smiled, putting his paperwork to the side. "You said something about a King Arthur, earlier?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, he's a heroic figure of legend where I'm from. He is famous for many things, one of which being the fact that he made a round table for his court so that he could sit on equal footing with his knights."

"That actually is a very good idea." Scarecrow said thoughtfully. He really did hate having a table with a head. It made everything very uncomfortable for him who—despite having been king for half a decade—was still not fond of all the attention he received. "You'll have to tell me more about this King Arthur sometime. He sounds like an interesting fellow."

"He is. Where is Jack, by the way? I think this is the first day when I have not seen him."

"I sent him and Jinjir—you haven't met her yet, but you will soon—to investigate some minor instances of theft reported in these weeks agriculture report along the eastern trade route."

"Brigands?" Dorothy asked, fascinated. With her only experience with thieves having been experienced by reading tales of Robin Hood and his Merrymen, Dorothy had a very limited understanding of the type of people highwaymen were.

"Possible, but not entirely plausible. We've never had trouble along that route while I've been on the throne. Usually, other than internal problems with fussy aristocracy, our only main concern is with the lands that are closest to the Nome kingdom, but the Deadly Desert puts us at a nice distance from the Nome king."

"Is he a powerful king?" Dorothy asked.

"Hmm? Yes, I suppose that you could call him very powerful, and a self-declared enemy of Oz. We're technically at peace now, but my advisors and I have been worried that they'll try to dig underneath the Deadly Desert and try to ambush the Emerald City. Fortunately, Glinda has cast many protections around the city, and the emeralds themselves have some magical properties. He's a powerful sorcerer thanks chiefly to a magic belt he possesses, but his power comes nowhere close to competing with hers."

"Brellya was just telling me this morning how important her presence here is in Oz for security. She also said that the people are very fond of you." Dorothy teased, and Scarecrow's face blushed slightly.

"Yes, well…" Scarecrow cleared his throat, "speaking of Glinda, she requested that she meet her after breakfast in the scrying tower."

When Dorothy looked at him questioningly, Scarecrow added,

"Don't worry, I'll take you. It took me over a year to really know where I was going around her, and sometimes I still discover passageways and doors that I never knew existed."

With that, the two of them finished their breakfast, talking all the while of noble kings, round tables, and foppishly dressed green dogs.

* * *

><p>Finding the money for four tickets wasn't easy. The Long farm provided a comfortable enough living, but comfortable only went so far. Fortunately, Dorothy's mother and father had a bank account with a decent sum that was handed over to Emily and Henry along with guardianship. Over the years, Emily had taken increments out of the fund in order to pay for Dorothy's school supplies, new clothes, and any doctor's appointments she might have had. After a decade, there wasn't much left in the sock that Emily kept hidden away under a floorboard in her and Henry's bedroom. It had been strategically handled over the years so as to keep long enough for Dorothy's graduation. Emily did not hesitate to use the money however. In her mind, her beloved niece had been abducted—abducted because she allowed her to be. They should have listened to Dorothy! They should have known not to let a man who—despite having an established practice in the town—was for all intents and purposes a stranger to the family. As far as Emily as concerned, if she didn't use the sock money, Dorothy may never come back home to graduate high school. And that quite settled things. What was not so easily settled however, was the matter of who would stay behind.<p>

Emily would naturally have to go. She couldn't bare to spend one more night worrying about the niece she sent into trouble. She was also Dorothy's blood relative, and she felt certain that fact would have more bearing on the Topeka police. Henry would come too, because he was her rock and anchor. They were eachothers anchors, really. After so many years of marriage, love, and devotion, neither of them would be able to handle something so difficult without the other. Hunk would have to go too, as he was the most familiar with the city and had already established some figment of a missing person's report with the police(even if it wasn't an official report). That left only two: Hickory and Zeke. Both viewed Dorothy as their family, and both were insistent that they come. The farm couldn't be left alone, however. There were still animals to feed and chores that needed doing. Someone would have to stay. The only problem was, no one had any idea how to go about making such a decision.

"I think that it might be better if you stay Zeke—you've a bigger build, and more endurance. You're better equipped to handle farm labor by yourself, not to mention the fact that you have a mean temper when crossed, and we don't need to getting yourself arrested for assaulting a police officer—again" Emily said

"On time, Em!" Zeke protested. "My temper is the whole reason that I should go! If I'm left alone to worry about what's going on in Topeka I won't get any work done. I can't just sit by knowing that our little Dorothy is in trouble!"

"I can't either. My heart would just break everytime I thought of all the terrible things that can happen to a young girl in a city like that." Hickory moaned, eyes still wet from crying. He had been crying more than Emily that morning, and this was one of those rare occasions when Zeke didn't tease him for it.

"Now don't you start imagining things again Hick! We don't need to listen to all of your paranoid dillusions! We're all worried enough as it is!" Hunk said sternly. It was too late however, for Hickory had already started imagining things again, and he couldn't stop himself from speaking said things.

"But there's so much crime in the big cities Hunk! You know that! Dorothy's a smart girl to be sure, but she's not used to city life—it's too much for her! And what if they're doing experiments on her in that ghastly school! I knew she shouldn't have gone, I just—"

"That's enough Hick!" Zeke snarled, and Hickory placed his face in his palms.

"When we find Dorothy—," Hunk began, "and we _will _find her, I'm going to scold her for ever letting you borrow _Frankenstein_. Experiments? Bah! She's probably run away is all. She's a smart girl, and she knew she didn't belong in that place. So she ran, and Drundle is probably just trying to cover his butt because he can't find her."

"Do you really think that's the case?" Henry asked, his voice quiet and even. Everyone else looked at Hunk and waited for his reply. It was never any secret among them that Hunk was the smartest person the town had ever seen, and with his University education they reckoned him one of the smartest men in all of Kansas. True, he could be a little clumsily with his body, but never with his mind. If he really believed something, then they would believe him. Hunk took a deep breath and replied,

"Yes, I really do. We'd know if something bad had happened to her. I can't explain it logically, other than to say that family knows when family hurts—and I feel like she's safe somewhere. You'll see, once we get to Topeka everything will work itself out."

Some of the heaviness that had been lingering over the room since that morning shifted, and the air became just a little lighter. Hickory lifted his face from his palms and took a deep breath.

"I think that Zeke should go." He said. "I'd be too much in the way over there, and I know I wouldn't be much help to anyone like this. I'd probably just cry the whole time anyway."

Zeke looked relieved, though Emily wasn't quite so sure. She knew she'd have to watch Zeke's temper while they were in the city, though another part of her knew that he'd probably be able to control himself enough to keep out of trouble for Dorothy's sake. So the matter was settled. Hunk, Henry, Emily, and Zeke left to the station immediately. They didn't bother to pack anything, because they did not want to waste anymore time. With only the clothes on their backs and a sock full of money, the four made their way down the dirt road and towards the station, cautiously optimistic that everything would—as Hunk had declared—work itself out once they reached Topeka. Little did they know, things would only get worse.

* * *

><p>After breakfast was finished(all four courses) and Dorothy was sore from laughter and good conversation, the hour bell sounded deeply and resonated from the city square, reminding Dorothy that she had an engagement with Glinda to keep. Reluctantly, Dorothy rose and the Scarecrow rose with her. During breakfast, they had been interrupted several times by couriers. Scarecrow apologized during and after every interruption, but Dorothy didn't mind. She found his job to be fascinating and wished that he would talk about it a little more. Clearly, he didn't want to bore her with a job that he found at times to be boring and tedious(especially where paperwork was involved). Dorothy tried to dissuade this notion as they walked out of the dining hall and into one of the Palace's many corridors.<p>

"It really doesn't bore me at all, I find politics to be fascinating—though more fascinating when they involve munchkins, talking trees, and magic."

"I suppose that's true enough. And I did find most of even the smallest inquiries, reports, and updates to interesting when I was a newer king. Now I'd just to get through breakfast with a dear friend without being interrupted every quarter of an hour." Scarecrow sighed.

"It wasn't all _that_ bad." Dorothy laughed, and Scarecrow allowed his magical painted mouth to smile.

"So Dorothy, before we were cut off by the last courier, we were talking about your family in Kansas. I believe I was asking if you intended to go back anytime soon, or if you planned to stay here longer. I have to admit, I'd be more for the latter option."

Dorothy smiled. "I would like to stay her longer and I plan to do just that. I mean to ask Glinda today how I'd go about going home while keeping the slippers on my feet this time, so that I can go back and forth when I wish."

"A very sensible question," Scarecrow praised, "but aren't you concerned about how worried your family might be?"

"Of course! But…well, the last time I was in Oz, we traveled for weeks before I left, and when I returned only a day had gone by in my world. I figure that time must move differently here, so I doubt more than a few hours has passed at my home. Besides, I…well, after what happened to Penelope, I don't think I could go back yet. I still feel somehow responsible for it…"

"Now wait a minute Dorothy!" Scarecrow protested, gently grabbing her arm and bringing her to a stop. "You couldn't possibly have known that she'd snoop through your things, or even that she'd try the slippers on! And even then—how could you know what would happen! You didn't know about the Witch's rules of property, and how you could wear the slippers without combusting only because you killed—" In the middle of Scarecrow's speech, another courier scurried up and interrupted. Scarecrow's face contorted in annoyance—an odd expression for a cloth face to make. He looked over his shoulder apologetically and stepped to the side to have a quiet discussion with the emerald clad courier. As the discussion continued Nick, who had been coming to see the Scarecrow himself, caught Dorothy's eye and smiled and came to stand next to her.

"Good morning Dorothy!"

"Good morning Tin Ma—I mean, Nick. Sorry, it will take me a while to get used to your new moniker."

"That's quite alright, Scarecrow still calls me Tin Man from time to time. I don't mind it really, It's just that I had a name before I became made of Tin, and it wasn't until I met you that I actually started going by Tin Man—or Tin Woodsman. Nowadays I think of it as a title reserved for friends, and as my friend you are more than welcome to use it."

Scarecrow peaked over his shoulder again and gave an exasperated wave to Dorothy and Nick. He said something else to the courier before moving towards them again, though his expression was far from happy.

"I'm very sorry Dorothy—and to you too Nick, I know you wanted to speak to me this morning—but some important business has come up and I have to attend to it."

"Is it serious?" Dorothy asked with concern.

"Well, I don't rightly know. I'd rather that this didn't get around, but you're my friends so I can trust you." Scarecrow looked around before continuing. "It seems that Jinjir and Jack encountered some problems during their evaluation of the eastern trade route, and they need another pair of eyes and mine happen to be the most qualified. I'm really sorry about having to leave so abruptly…"

"Don't worry yourself about it, I didn't have anything of vital importance to discuss with you anyway." Nick said, patting his friend on the arm.

"And we were pretty much finished too, since I have to meet Glinda."

Scarecrow frowned, still not pleased about the situation. He had foolishly hoped that matters of bureaucracy and country would stand still for a while as he caught up with his old friends. But he had been king long enough to know better than to expect the rest of the world to slow down for one person, even if that person was king.

"Well, I guess I ought to be going then. I need to find someone to take you to the scrying tower first though…"

"I can take Dorothy." Nick volunteered. "I know the way, and the two of us haven't had a chance to talk amongst ourselves since she came back."

So Scarecrow said his reluctant good-byes and left down a separate corridor to prepare himself for the trip. He informed Dorothy that he probably wouldn't be back for dinner, but Leonas and Nick would still be there to entertain her. Dorothy was a little disappointed that the entire gang couldn't be together for dinner, but she knew that they'd have many dinners to come so her disappointment was momentary. After Scarecrow had been gone for a few moments, Nick held out his arm to Dorothy and said,

"Shall we?"

Dorothy smiled and said, "Why yes, kind sir, we shall."

Nick led her through a variety of lavish halls, all of which had been decorated using the same color scheme of silver and green. To her surprise, Dorothy never found the Palace's décor to be tiring or even too repetitive. The magical quality of the stone in the walls, the marble on the floor, and the threads in the dozens of tapestries and rugs that adorned every single hallway all oozed magic. There was an almost iridescent quality to them, in that depending on how the light struck the décor of the Palace the colors would shine in a slightly different manner. There were many flights of stairs, but Dorothy never found herself winded. She supposed this must be to do with magic as well. Even Toto in his old age seemed to keep up with them fairly well, though he stopped for water once or twice in one of the many indoor fountains. While they walked, Dorothy and Nick talked.

"Why is it that Scarecrow has never taken another name?" Dorothy asked. Nick might have had a name before he became known as the Tin Man, but the Cowardly Lion had chosen a name for himself. It seemed odd to her that Scarecrow, being the king of a majestic Kingdom, would not have chosen a new name to fit his title, in the way that kings and queens of old often received very long names but only chose to be known as one.

"I tried to get him to consider it in the beginning, but he seems to be pretty fond of his name. Part of me wondered if it wasn't demeaning to be always known by what you are—it would be like if Glinda was only known as Witch, or Brellya was only known as Munchkin. But he seems to like it for that reason, because he is first and foremost a scarecrow. Even if he doesn't really scare crows."

"I suppose that makes sense. And I have to admit, I do really like calling him Scarecrow. It's nice and familiar, and I don't think I could ever think of another name for him."

They were getting closer to the scrying tower, as the halls were far less crowded and Dorothy could see the tower steps in the distance. Toto decided that he'd run ahead so he could rest while waiting for them. He might have been old, but Dorothy imagined that he thought that she and Nick walked like old geezers. And they certainly were walking slowly, mostly due to the fact that they both wanted to make the most out of their time.

"I think it's rather sentimental to him too. Do you know, the farmers who stuffed him together and put him out on that pole never named him? They didn't even talk to him. You were one of the first people to talk to him actually, and I've been told that you started calling him Scarecrow almost immediately after you met him, so for all intents and purposes it really as much his name as Nick is mine. It helps that he was named by a friend too."

Dorothy smiled. She wondered if there was a special reason that her parents chose her name. She'd have to ask Aunt Em later, after she was sure things had settled down a bit at home and she was sure that she could still come back to Oz when she wanted to. As they reached the base of the spiral staircase that would lead Dorothy to Glinda, Nick stopped and bent down to scratch Toto on the ear. Toto thumped his leg emphatically, and Dorothy giggled and bent to rub his stomach.

"Dorothy, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, you may ask me anything!"

"Even if it's about something you'd rather not remember?"

Dorothy looked at Nick and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well…yesterday, at dinner, Scarecrow filled me and Leonas in about all the terrible things that happened to you back home…"

"Oh, _that_. Well, you're my friend, so I don't mind talking about it with you, even if it is a little unpleasant."

"All the same, I hate to bring it up, but there's something I need to know. Scarecrow said that you were attacked by a Winkie?"

Realization dawned on Dorothy. Of course Nick would want the details about the incident at the dance. He had been the ruler of the Winkie Kingdom after the Wicked Witch of the West was slain. If Winkies were somehow crossing worlds and causing mayhem, naturally as king he would want to know. It was also the first time Dorothy really started to look at Nick as a king. With Scarecrow it had been easy, as he always seemed to be surrounded by king-like tasks, servants, courtiers and such. But Nick never seemed to be accompanied by a guard, nor was he even dressed royally. And Leonas had become king of all beasts too. In regards to her friends, she really had a lot to be proud about. She only hoped that they were proud of her too.

Dorothy related the story of the dance to Nick, though she skimmed the unimportant parts. When she had finished describing the ghastly, seemingly undead Winkies in detail, and of Toto's abduction, Dorothy felt compelled to scoop Toto into her arms and hold him tightly.

"I see…that is troubling. The Winkie kingdom is rather small and I don't have a lot of subjects. No Winkies have been reported recently, but there were some that went missing a few years back. It was odd actually—they just vanished without a trace. I wonder if…"

"You wonder if what?"

"Well, it's just a theory, but it is possible that they were enchanted. But it would take an awfully powerful witch or sorcerer to send a creature from our world into yours."

"But why would anyone ever want to do such a thing!"

"I don't know Dorothy, I really don't know." Nick's face was steeped in thought and concern. The clock from the city center chimed, signaling that it was half-past the hour.

"You'd better be going Dorothy—you don't want to keep Glinda waiting. I know I wouldn't. I'll see you at dinner, and probably before then. I'll be in the library if you need me. If you don't mind, could you tell Glinda that I would like to speak with her when she's done? If she's not to busy, that is."

"Sure, I'll tell her. See you later."

Nick waved, and waited at the bottom of the stairs until he was sure she was up safely. When she reached the door leading into the scrying room, she bent her head over the railing. It certainly was a very long way down. She had never been afraid of heights, and she was thankful for that fact now. She gave Nick a thumbs up, and knocked on the wooden door.

* * *

><p>The door opened—as typical to the doors of the Emerald Palace—magically, and a small wind tickled the small of Dorothy's back and urged her in. The room was bright and airy, and there were large, arched windows all around the inner dome. Toto trotted in a ways and collapsed onto the cool stone. It seemed as though the walk was starting to wear him out after all, though he did not sleep. His ears were still alert and he kept his eyes open and always on Dorothy. In the middle of the room was a very large basin situated on a white pedestal. The basin was filled with water and churned softly like a river at rest. Glinda stood next to the basin, clad in the same beautiful white dress that she had been wearing the day before.<p>

"Hello Dorothy, did you sleep well dear?" she asked, beckoning Dorothy to come forward and stand beside her. Dorothy complied, awed by the thick aura she seemed to generate. She never really noticed it before, but the air changed when you stood next to Glinda. It was almost as if it was heavy with all of her magic. As always, Glinda seemed to know exactly what Dorothy was thinking.

"It is not only me, but the tower as well. It has been used for strong magic for many years, and has developed it's own presence."

"That sounds wonderful, and a bit frightening." Dorothy replied. She looked over her shoulder, half expecting a face to materialize in the walls.

"A wise reaction, for places filled with so much magic can indeed be very frightening if not attended to frequently."

"What is this tower exactly?"

Glinda swept her hand over the basin. In an instant, an image started to form on the water's surface. It came together like a watercolor. At first, there were blobs of colors. Then, undefinable shapes. Finally, layer after layer of shading brought a picture into focus. It was of the library, where Nick was being assisted by what appeared to be a polka dot man.

"You see?" Glinda smiled.

"Erm…it shows you events that are happening in the palace?"

"Yes, and anywhere else as well. This tower is mainly used for scrying, and one scries by using a reflective surface. Water works best I find, because glass can be used as portals. It is where I spend most of my time while I am in the Emerald City. This allows me to keep track of all the different realms of Oz at once, though there are some places that cannot be scryed. For instance, I can't look for a place if I don't know where it is. And some places that have strong magic like the Emerald City are fuzzy when scryed, and not easily defined."

"Why are you showing me this Glinda?" Dorothy wondered allowed. After having said it, she hasitly amended, "I mean, not that I mind you showing me this. It is very interesting. I just don't understand why…well, you said you needed to talk to me about something? I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense."

"You're making perfect sense to me dear. Your mind is probably still tired from last night. Come, site down and we'll talk."

Glinda led Dorothy to a table by a stained glass window. The glass depicted a beautiful young girl in a yellow dress. After she was seated, Glinda made a motion with her hand and a glass appeared infront of Dorothy. Likewise, a bowl appeared infront of Toto.

"What would you like to drink dear?"

"Oh…um, water please."

"And you, Toto," said Glinda, turning her attention to the little black dog, "what will you have?"

Toto barked something, and Glinda smiled. She waved her hand again, and Dorothy's glass filled with water. Toto's glass filled with a green tinted water. Dorothy looked at it questioningly.

"It's water from the fountains around the Palace. Apparently, he's taken a liking to it. Now, shall we talk? You want to ask me about last night, don't you?"

"Well, yes, now that you mention it. I don't entirely understand what happened. I was in the hall one moment, and suddenly I heard voices. Eventually, all I could hear was the voices, and I caught the middle of a conversation. I think that it was about me."

Dorothy then went on to relay everything that she remembered about the conversation to Glinda, who listened intently. When she was finished, Glinda tilted her head and thought for a few moments. Finally, she said,

"It sounds to be as though you intercepted a conversation—probably one that you should not have intercepted, which is rather fortunate for us.

"But how! I didn't aim to do it, or even knew what I was doing!"

"I'm sure you didn't aim to, but you did. As to the why, I have an answer for that too if you'll be patient for a while longer. I never explained to you in detail why I never told you that the slippers could have taken you home when we first met. The fact is, I wasn't sure you could go home. Through magical laws you may have won the slippers, but you yourself possessed no magic in which to use them. They were really nothing more than regular shoes at that point as far as you were concerned because you couldn't harness their power. However, by the time you were taken by the Wicked Witch of the West, that all seemed to change."

Glinda paused for a moment, and Dorothy waited with baited breath. Just as Dorothy was about to prompt Glinda to continue, she began to speak again.

"You don't know this, but I was watching you always while you traveled. From this very tower, infact. I couldn't face the Wicked Witch of the West in her own realm then, and I could also do very little to help you directly. I tried a few times on your journey, such as when you met the witch while traveling after the Tin Man's cabin. However, even though you could not command the power of the slippers, the shoes themselves still held great magic, and it interfered with my own. It interfered with the witch's power too, though she did not know it. But I always kept an eye on you to make sure that you did not find yourself in too much trouble."

"That's how you knew to send snow when me and Leonas fell asleep in the poppy field!"

"That's correct."

"But how come the slippers didn't interfere then?"

"Partly because I wasn't directing magic at you, but at the environment around you. It was also partially due to the fact that you were—much to my surprise—actually growing into the slippers. I did not fully realize how much, however, until you were at the witch's keep. You see, I watched the whole thing, from your confinement, to your rescue, to your eventual confrontation with the witch. And do you know what I saw?"

Dororthy shook her head.

"There was no water when you were cornered, because the witch was too clever to keep water lying around. But when Scarecrow was set on fire, a pale of water magically materialized behind you. Do you know why? I shall tell you. You willed it to appear. You did not know it at the time, but prolonged contact with slippers as powerful as the ruby slippers awoke some innate talent within you—some lost magic. When it did, it allowed you to summon something to aid your friend in his time in need, and you also summoned something that would destroy the witch. The fact that water was her weakness was a little known fact. Intrinsically, your magic knew that weakness however, and enabled you to exploit it. That is why, when you returned to the Emerald City triumphant, that you were able to use the magic of the slippers to go home. You were not trained enough however and were unable to keep hold of them on the journey. But they always remained apart of you, connected to your magic. This is why you were able to summon them during your time of need in Kansas. This is why you are here today, and this is why you are in great danger."

Dorothy blinked stupidly, and Toto yawned as if he had heard the story before. Realizing it would be a lot for her to process, Glinda let Dorothy sort the information on her own. _I have magic? I can't have magic—I'm not a witch…but it makes sense, doesn't it? But where did it come from? I'm just a girl from a small town in Kansas! My kin are farmers, not spellcasters. No one in Uncle Henry and Aunt Em's family have left Kansas in centuries! No one except…_

Dorothy blinked away her amazement and took a big sip from her cup. When she had finished, it magically refilled itself. Up until a little over a month ago, she had known nothing about her mother's family. Could that be where the magic was? If so, would Glinda know? Dorothy looked up to ask Glinda, but she was no longer sitting across from her. Instead, Glinda was standing in front of a lighted alcove. When Dorothy walked over to stand behind Glinda, she saw an enormous book that lay closed on a pedestal sheltered by cache in the wall.

"Glinda—" Dorothy began, only to be cut off by Glinda's mellifluous voice.

"This is the Great Book of Records. It allows me to keep track of every living thing not only in Oz, but in other worlds as well. It's like a biography of every single life, because no life is truly unimportant. Through this book, I made an enlightening and puzzling discovery. The surname Drundle sounded familiar too me, so I spoke Drundle's name to the book and do you know what I found?"

"What?" Dorothy asked anxiously.

"Very little about him that you didn't know already."

Dorothy felt incredibly disappointed and let down. Glinda smiled at the look on Dorothy's face and continued,

"But sometimes the most important details are the small details. I learned that Drundle is actually not from Kansas as he claims, but from Omaha. I also learned that he had a brother named Leroy Drundle who, unlike his brother, never pursued a career in politics."

Glinda paused again, Dorothy felt as though the name Leroy Drundle was supposed to be very important, but she didn't know why. Glinda continued,

"Leroy Drundle instead fostered his love and talent acting and slight of hand—a sort of _magician_ as your world called him. He traveled around with his wagon of Marvels, and was most famous for his hot-air balloon, which he would—for a small fee—take people on rides in. One day, however, he did not return from a flight test. Eventually, one of his cousins took his place under the stage name—"

"Professor Marvel!" Dorothy exclaimed. "Then that means—it can't possibly mean—do you mean to tell me that horrible old 's brother was the former Wizard of Oz!"

"You've got it." Glinda smiled.

"Well then, it can't be more than a coincidence that just happened to open a clinic in Windybluff and just happened to show such a _healthy _interest in my _Oz delusions_."

"You have come to the same conclusion as I Dorothy, for I do not believe it to be a coincidence at all. The book shows that Leroy Drundle did make it back to Omaha, and he lived in your world up until a year ago, when he died suddenly."

"Oh, how sad…" Dorothy mused. From what she had known of the Wizard, he seemed like a decent man beneath the deception. He had been lost like she was, only he had not kept as good a group of friends as Dorothy had, and had never managed to really fall in love with Oz the way Dorothy had. Still, underneath it all, he was just a man who wanted to go home.

"Indeed. Unfortunately, we know have no way of knowing what exactly he told his brother about Oz. He might not have needed to however, for I suspect that another has been pulling Drundle's strings for a few years now. That someone I'm sure convinced Drundle to take as much of an interest in you as he did, and it must have been that someone who informed Drundle of the arrival of the ruby slippers in Kansas just moments after you discovered them. I fear that someone wishes you great harm, Dorothy."

Toto, sensing Dorothy's worry, trotted over beside her. She scooped him up and held him close.

"But who?" she asked. "Who would want to see me harmed so badly?"

Glinda titled her head away from Dorothy and looked towards the scrying dish.

"I don't know Dorothy. I truly don't know."

* * *

><p>Stephen Drundle magically appeared in the center of Gregory Drundle's office, causing the middle-aged doctor to jump back in fright. When he recovered, he angrily spat,<p>

"Learn how to knock boy or don't bother coming at all!"

Stephen ignored his uncle's venom and instead moved to sit in one of the armchairs adjacent to his uncle's position. He took the time to fix his hair with a green comb he always kept in his left-hand pocket. prompted,

"Well?"

"Yes, I am well uncle. Thank you for asking." Stephen smiled, and his uncle turned beet red. When he did, Stephen's smile grew wider.

"You know what I meant!"

"You mean you did not mean to inquire after my health? How rude. I have been managing a small town clinic all by myself and let me tell you—when it comes to her cats, that Elmira Gulch is a hypochondriac. Beautiful cats though—"

"For goodness sakes, stop carrying on! I don't want to hear about some woman's blasted cats! Has she returned to the farm yet?"

"No" Stephen replied, tucking his comb back into his jacket pocket. "I'm not surprised. She's met Glinda already I'm sure, just as I'm sure that Glinda is probably already onto you. She is the most powerful sorceress that Oz has ever known."

"That remains to be seen" muttered darkly. "And her family, what of them? Are the asking questions?"

"Oh, more than asking questions. They're on their way to Topeka right now. The…what did you call him? 'Clever enough for a simpleton' simpleton boarded the last train out of Topeka to Windybluff yesterday and went to inform the family of your little…genius plan."

"What!" seethed. "Did you see who was with him! Were the girl's legal guardians boarding the train too?"

Stephen examined his nails absentmindedly.

"I only saw two head towards the station, and it looked to be and one of the other farmhands. Zeke, I think his name is."

calmed down considerably.

"Good," he said, "very good. We don't need her guardians getting involved yet. The farmhands that fancy themselves _family_ might not be able to pursuade the police to take this matter further, but her legal guardians could. It's nothing I couldn't handle, but I certainly don't need the distraction. My mistress demands that I be swift and unhindered in implementing her plan."

"No, you definitely don't need to worry your mistress." Stephen moved. As he magicked away, he commented, "though a distraction would be _interesting._"

_A/N: Yay! I finished a new chapter. For a few moments there, I wasn't sure that I would. I decided to give the town where Dorothy lives an actual name, because I was tired of not having anything else to call it but the "sticks". This chapter will be the last we see of Hunk and gang for a little while, because I wanted to devote the next two towards really progressing the plot thus far and answering some of the questions I've left open in the story so far. On a side note, I had a bizarrely Oz themed Christmas this year. Three people bought me Oz related gifts, and I didn't even write a list this year! One of those gifts was "The Wizard of Oz" on bluray and I have to say the picture quality is beyond fantastic! It's freakishly new! If you get a chance to watch it in bluray I definitely recommend checking it out. Any Oz fan won't regret it. I think I also may have subconsciously switched the spelling Stephen's name this chapter, so if I have I'll go back and re-edit. One last note, I tried to really watch the blank spots this time, and I seem to be getting control of them. If you do see any in this chapter, please let me know though. Until the next chapter, TTFN._


	13. Prelude to Truth

Chapter 13: Prelude to Truth

**A/N: I was reading a rather good fanfic the other day, only to be dismayed at the fact that it was incomplete! I whined about it for a few moments and wondered why the author was taking so long to update. And then, as if by fate, I received a "favorite story" alert in my e-mail inbox. Oops. I was guilty of the very same thing I had been bemoaning, and I decided to seize the opportunities afforded to me this summer and take some time to actually update this story. I still intend to finish it, and my current plan is for it to run around 30 chapters. I'm going to try to update again before the first fortnight of June, but I know better than to make promises now. Life is unpredictable, and I'm a very neurotic person. I promise that I will try however, and that I do have an idea of where I want this story to go. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. It's a little forced because…well, it was forced. I knew that I'd have to bite the bullet and force myself to start writing again and as a result the narrative isn't as smooth as I would like. I've tried to clean it up in certain areas but I'm eager to get onto more chapters and hopefully find a second wind.**

**_Oh, and to answer DaAmazingMeepers, who has been awesome for keeping with my story this long, let's just say that Stephen's loyalties are not as black and white as some people, both Drundle and Dorothy, might think. As for cats, I adore them! And I fully intend to change Dorothy's mind about them during the course of this story. _**

**_So without further adieu, here is my first chapter of 2012. _**

* * *

><p>Dorothy left the scrying tower not long after Glinda's last revelation. Apparently, some yet to be determined presence wished Dorothy harm. Mind you, this was not entirely news for Dorothy. Drundle certainly seemed to wish her harm, as did some of the many bullies at her school, and the Wicked Witch of the West years before. Dorothy knew those threats however, and knowing something about the danger that you're in generally makes the danger slightly less frightening. If she could put a name and a face to someone or something that wished her harm, Dorothy felt certain that—given enough time—she could grow accustomed to that image and learn not to fear it. As it was, she knew nothing of this mysterious being who had been orchestrating Drundle's actions and the dance fiasco barely two months ago. In her mind, all that she could envision were glowing eyes breaking up a veil of shadows. This image terrified her. She would have loved to unload all of the questions that were filling her brain on Glinda but it seemed that Glinda had said all that she wanted to say for the time being. In some ways, this really infuriated Dorothy. She was practically fuming as she stomped down the winding tower stairs. Sensing her change in mood, Toto trotted ahead of her. Occasionally he would stop and glance back at her, but when he discerned that she was still seething with annoyance he would start trotting down the stairs again.<p>

Where did adults get off anyway! _Why is it that they always see fit to string children along like fragile things? Does she think I can't handle the rest of what she has to say? Does she think that keeping me in the dark will help me at all? Why, oh WHY do grown-ups always have to patronize their youth? We may be lesser in age, but we're not all lesser in understanding_. Dorothy glowered some more, not paying attention to where she was going. After she had reached the end of the staircase she set off in some unknown direction. She was so lost in her mental rant that she didn't stop to think that she ought to ask for directions or wait for someone to help her back to her room or the great hall. She walked off her anger for what seemed like only a few moments, so she was rather surprised when she finally did look up to find that the sky outside looked as though it was an hour or so away from the sunset. Could she really have been up in the tower that long? And had she really just set off in a fury without knowing where she was going? Dorothy examined her surroundings and sighed. Nothing looked remotely familiar. The color scheme was still the same, but she couldn't find any familiar paintings or landmarks. She waited a few moments by a nearby window, taking a seat on the cushioned surface that extended from the wall. Some minutes passed but no one else came by. She was sure that there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of people working in the palace. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to be around this particular corridor today. Dorothy Gale had gotten herself hopelessly lost.

* * *

><p>Nick had been very busy since leaving Dorothy a few hours earlier. Their conversation had gotten him thinking, and when Nick thought he often thought deeply. He was not the quickest thinker in the world and it often took him quite a while to piece a picture together. He was relentless however and would not give in until he had answers to his questions. He had wished that Scarecrow had been there to assist him but he had to learn that he couldn't always bother his friend to help him sort things out. He had been a King for almost as long as Scarecrow had and it was about time that he learned to act like one. He often envied how easily Scarecrow had fit into the shoes of a leader. Though he would blush and deny it if confronted, Scarecrow really was a capable king. Leonas—well, he was a lion after all. Lions knew what to do with power when they had it and Leonas certainly used his power well. No one who knew him after he became king would ever dream that this stately and brave being was ever accused of being cowardly. Nick, on the other hand, found nothing easy about being a ruler. He had a good heart, which he was often told was a wonderful trait for a ruler to have. Sometimes he worried that he ruled too much with his heart however and not enough with logic. Five years ago he believed that one's heart could never lead one astray. Now, after having been saddled with the weight of a kingdom and responsible for lives other than his own, Nick had come to realize that hearts could not always be relied upon to make the most prudent choices. As much as he and Scarecrow would often argue about which of their prized traits were most valuable, deep down they both knew that a heart without brains and brains without heart were not worth anything at all. You had to have both to strive, and at the moment Nick was desperately working at trying to awaken a brain that was sorely underused. Naturally, he used his brain for everyday thinking. It was good at everyday problems, as well as problems to do with the heart. Complicated problems—the type of problems that took more than one sitting to really sort out—were a different matter.<p>

The Librarian on call, Monty Glu(the polka dot man Dorothy had seen in the scrying tower), wheeled another load of books to Nick's table. He removed the books that had been placed in the 'finished' pile and unloaded the new stack with ease. His arms were much longer than regular person's arms and were perfect for handling books. Nick murmured his thanks and surveyed the pile wearily. Monty caught his expression and said,

"You've certainly done quite an impressive amount of reading in such a short time. Not many Ozians could sit still long enough to read through so many. The only person other than yourself that I've ever brought so many books for is the king himself. Now that's a man who reads a lot. You know, I think that he'd be quite happy being a librarian instead of a king. He's even said so himself. But he's a good king, he is."

"Yes, he is" Nick responded, though he was only half listening. In truth, he hadn't fully read any of the books he had requested. Unlike Scarecrow he could not read at a blistering pace, nor could he process copious amounts of information with ease. He had been stuck at the table for hours and had hardly anything to show for it. He should have known better than to walk into a library of such magnitude and just expect that he'd find exactly what he was looking for. In truth, he couldn't put into words exactly what he was looking for. He just knew that he would know the right information when he saw it and that was why he had been skimming books for hours on end. Monty was still talking.

"—you want me to take this pile over here as well?"

Monty gestured to an off-center book pile near the far corner of the table.

"I think you'd better Monty. They're all handwritten, and I can't read a word of what they're saying. I think that they might be in a different language altogether."

"You'd be right in thinking so sir. Those are Gilkin ledgers. If you like I could have them translated for you."

"Oh, that's alright. I doubt that they'd make much sense to me anyway."

Monty placed the pile onto his library cart—which floated over the floor and required no wheels. Nick went back to reading the last book he had selected which was a book of Ozian folktales. As he tried to force his brain to keep its focus a familiar voice broke his concentration.

"You look as though you're head is about to emit a great gust of steam." Glinda smiled. Nick sighed and closed his book loudly.

"I imagine that you're quite right. Would you care to sit down?" He asked, and Glinda obliged. He doubted that she was tired, as she never seemed to appear fatigued in the slightest. Glinda was a very courteous—if not mysterious—person however, and she probably sensed that Nick would feel more at ease if they were both sitting. Glinda made a motion with her hand which proceeded by a small pop and the arrival of two tall glasses. Her glass filled with a bubbly pink substance while Nick's filled with some flavored oil. In a regular library, such as the libraries in Kansas, beverages would never be allowed. But everything in the Emerald Palace, due to the genius of a former librarian, was rendered spill proof so the books had nothing to fear.

"Thankyou for coming to see me Glinda. I know that you must be awfully busy and I appreciate that you've taken time out of your schedule to meet with me."

Glinda responded by tilting her head and smiling.

"I trust you know why I asked you here" Nick sighed. His brain was tired from being forced to read and trying to comprehend nonsensical garbles of information.

"I imagine so" Glinda responded. "You wish to discuss the events that happened to Dorothy on the night of her dance. The presence of Winkies there troubles you. Specifically, that of a Winged Monkey."

Nick nodded slowly and placed his chin in his palms. "Yes, you're right of course. As King of the Winkie Country, I inherited the responsibility of caring for the many people who inhabit it. This includes a sizeable amount of Winged Monkeys. As you know, the Winged Monkeys are originally from the Gilkin country but, due to a prank made against the fiancée of a sorceress, they were made to obey anyone who holds the golden cap. The Wicked Witch of the West held the cap for who knows how long, and during that time many Winged Monkeys took up residence in the Winkie Country. Even after I relinquished the cap to you and allowed all willing monkeys to return to the Gilkin country many chose to remain. It troubles me then that no less than two should not only be spotted in another realm, but were perpetrators of a heinous crime! But you know all of this…"

Nick said, letting his sentence die away. After a few moments, and when his head began to finally wake from its book induced slumber, he continued,

"What I want to know, and what I've been trying to learn, is how such a thing could have happened. Going by Dorothy's descriptions, these Winkies were sick, maybe even already dead! And yet they still somehow managed to cross the borders between our worlds. Now, I'm not as experienced with magic as you are, but I did see quite a bit of it growing up and—as I am now—I am the product of magic. So I know that it takes quite a bit of skill to enchant someone, but to control the dead? It's practically unthinkable. I've never heard of it being done before! Someone who could pull off such a feat…well, I don't even want to think about it."

"You have come to many of the same conclusions as I have. For all that you have heart, you have quite a bit of intelligence too. Don't ever fool yourself in regards to that." Glinda smiled and Nick managed a small grin of gratitude.

"Well then Glinda, am I missing anything? I must be, because I can't think of a single known magic user who could do such a feat, save perhaps for you."

"You are missing a few pieces yet, but before I present them to you could you now answer one of my questions? Have any people of Winkie—Winged Monkey and regular citizen alike—gone missing since you've come to the throne?"

Nick blinked. "Why, yes, there have been a few. I was actually just telling Dorothy about some instances this morning. Three Winged Monkeys disappeared a year after I became king. This was unusual, as those who wanted to return to the Gilkin country had already gone, and those who remained seemed pretty intent on staying. What's more, days after they disappeared there were some weird sightings. Things like feathers falling from the sky, blood in the trees, indiscernible noises in the night. These things were only frequent for about a week after the disappearances before they stopped altogether. After a while, most of the families declared them dead and a ceremony was held."

"Any other people? People other than Winged Monkeys?" Glinda pressed, and Nick reclined in his chair in thought. After a moment, his eyes widened in recognition.

"You know, there was one other really strange disappearance a year ago. There was another Tin Man, very much like me, who used to be a Captain. I think that he may have served the Good Witch of the South, in the Gilkin country. Captain Fyter is his name, but most people grew to call him Tin Soldier. Like me, he had been enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East and made to mutilate his own body until every part of him was replaced by metal. He came to offer his services to me a little while after I came to the throne and he was helping me to track down…well, someone who was dear to me before I lost my heart. But then sometime last year he departed to the Gilkin country following a lead he never came back. I haven't heard from him since, which is very unusual because in all the time I've known him he has always been very officious and prompt. I was worried that something happened along his travel, but he was going on a very well known road and no one reported anything suspicious. I contacted the Good Witch there, but she hadn't seen him in years—not since he had turned to tin. Do you possibly think that all of these instances could be connected?"

After a moment of thought, Glinda only said, "it is possible". Nick audibly sighed and sunk down in his chair.

"That is a VERY vague answer Glinda." Nick frowned. Glinda smiled at his expression and turned to look towards one of the library's rows of books. After a while, she said,

"Dorothy said the exact same thing before stomping out of the tower in a fit. I know that it doesn't seem terribly fair. I imagine that I must look as though I always have all of the answers and I must confess that I usually do. However, in this situation all I have are pieces of a bigger picture. Until I mange to assemble all of the pieces, I would rather not discuss the millions of possible pictures those pieces could form. It's best to wait, I think, until I possess most of the answers. Until then you shall all have to be a little patient with me."

Nick's temper mellowed immediately. It made sense, really. Why talk about something if you didn't know exactly what that something meant? Some people—people like Nick—liked to talk about something forever until it made sense. But people like Glinda and Scarecrow spent most of their time occupied by thoughts, figuring things out in their own brilliant ways. Nick had to respect the fact that she had her own process and that he would have to be patient. A bell chimed the hour, and Glinda rose, signaling that their conversation was finished. Nick rose with her and, before she magicked away, he asked,

"Did I at least help you get one step closer to figuring this whole thing out?"

"Yes, I believe you did"

With a quick flash of light Glinda was gone, and the library was still once more. It wasn't until after he left that Nick remembered that Glinda has never divulged the pieces of his puzzle that he was missing. He supposed that that too would have to wait for another day.

* * *

><p>Dorothy desperately wished that she had a watch. Since coming to Oz, her only means of telling the time were the bell chimes that sounded from somewhere in the Emerald City. She imagined that there must be clocks elsewhere in the palace, but none seemed to be present in the deserted hall where she was presently situated. She imagined that a half-hour must have passed since she discovered that she was lost. She had toyed with the idea of walking around for a while to see if she could find anyone but she also didn't want to get more lost than she already was. If they had to send a search party through the palace for her she would never live it done. She'd die of embarrassment. No, it was best that she just waited where she was. Someone had to come by eventually and when they did she'd ask for directions. Resolved to wait, Dorothy tucked her skirts around her and brought her knees to her chest. She patted the cushion next to her and Toto hopped up and settled down beside her. She stroked his fur and allowed her mind to dissect her conversation with Glinda. Did she really have magic? Was it possible for girl from a small town in Kansas to possess such qualities? Or was it even her magic at all? Glinda had said that the slippers didn't initially work for her, which would imply that she didn't always have magic. Could it then be possible that being in contact with such powerful magical artifacts for a prolonged period of time had affected her? Could her magic just be some sort of <em>discharge<em> from the shoes?

_But I don't __**feel **__different, _Dorothy mused. _I don't feel like magic at all. I just feel like I've always felt, except perhaps a bit older. I couldn't be all that magical. A magical person wouldn't have let Toto be kidnapped, and Roman be hurt, and Penelope killed…_

She had let her mind dwell on a subject she had been attempting to avoid and tears were the price. All at once, Dorothy's eyes watered until streams of tears flowed down her cheeks and her neck, and her eyes were as red as her slippers. Toto whined in sympathy and nuzzled his head into her lap. _You've done it now Doe_, she thought miserably. She hadn't wanted to cry. She had only let herself cry once in front of Scarecrow and had resolved that she was quite done with tears. Evidently, she was not as done as she thought she was. But so much had happened! In a matter of months her greatest nightmares and dearest dreams had come to be in a collision of confusion and death. She had been so upset at Glinda that she hadn't even asked half of the questions she wanted, most importantly how to come and go from Oz—or if it was possible at all. Until Scarecrow had mentioned her family earlier that morning she had paid very little thought to them. Was she really so heartless? Of course they would be worried sick, even if very little time had passed back home. She knew that they hadn't wanted to send her away, and sooner or later they'd find out the truth. After all, she had seen Hunk driven from the institution only a short while before she summoned the slippers and disappeared to Oz. Surely Hunk would have sensed something wrong. He might have gone back to the farm already! Shuddering, Dorothy imagined how distressed Aunt Em would be when she learned that the place she had sent her niece to be safe was really a nightmare. She and Uncle Henry would never forgive themselves. And Dorothy, the ever faithful, had been so excited to be back in Oz that she had spared no thoughts to the family that had been with her most of her life! This train of thought naturally lead to more tears and Dorothy was so involved in crying every ounce of liquid her body could produce that she almost missed the footsteps echoing through the hall. Toto did not however and he yipped in order to draw her attention from her tears and towards their visitor. Dorothy sniffed loudly and did her best to still her tears. She raised her head and turned to see a tall woman walking down the hall and towards her. She did not appear to see Dorothy however, and would have walked right by her if Toto had not run out to greet her. The tall lady jumped back in fright, placing one hand on a sabre than hung on her waist. Toto, possessed of a friendly temperment, just wagged his tail in response. The lady's shoulders relaxed and she let out an audible sigh of relief. She heard Dorothy sniff from the window seat and turned to examine her. Dorothy examined the lady in turn. Her skin was sun kissed, and Dorothy guessed that she had been outside for most of the day. Her black hair was secured at the back of her head with what appeared to be knitting needles, and she was probably half a foot taller than Dorothy was. There was a severe nature to her features, but Dorothy didn't sense unkindness there. After a few moments more of mutual appraisal, the lady broke the silence.

"Dorothy Gale, is it?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm—well, you seem to know me. This is Toto. I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"Don't be. We've never met and you have no reason to know me. I am Jinjur, one of the King's most trusted hands. You are Dorothy Gale, one of the King's most trusted friends, which makes me your hand as well."

"Oh, um, thank you? I mean, I'm pleased to meet you. Scarecrow—erm, the King has told me a little about you." Dorothy said, rising from her seat to make a hasty curtsey. Jinjur waived her hand dismissively.

"No need for formalities. At least not on your part. What are you doing here? This is the stable hall."

"Stable hall?" Dorothy frowned.

"Yes, it comes from the stable. Though it is rarely used. Most people like to walk through the gardens by the stables and access one of the entrances near the kitchens. Pleasant smells and all that. I don't much care for the kitchens myself. _Things _tend to lurk in places with a lot of crumbs."

The way that Jinjur said _things _gave Dorothy and uncomfortable feeling, and she imagined that these _things _must be pretty awful to incite so much dislike.

"Well, I was… I was at the scrying tower a while back and then I walked for a while and wasn't paying much attention so I became lost. I had no idea this hall lead to the stables. I had no idea where this hall was at all until you showed up."

"The scrying tower?" Jinjur asked incredulously. "But that's in an entirely different section of the castle. You must have taken several wrong turns and a few flights of stairs to get here!"

"I don't remember any stairs…" Dorothy mumbled shyly. She was rather embarrassed at being so lost, though Jinjur didn't seem to fault her for it. On the contrary, she seemed thoroughly impressed.

"I can't believe you're not exhausted. There are four towers in this castle you know, marking the four wings. The Scying tower is in the East wing, and you're in the South Wing! Frankly I'm surprised that you aren't exhausted! Oh well, no matter. I suppose you'll want to get back to the common area—you know, the place with the Great Hall. That's at the center of the Palace, in case you were wondering. You're familiar with that area aren't you?"

"Yes—"

"That settles it then, follow me. I'm headed that way myself." Jinjur announced, and before she had finished her sentence she had set off down the hall. Not wanting to become lost again, Dorothy kept close behind her companion, and Toto similarly kept close behind her. As they walked, Jinjur continued to talk and Dorothy was glad for it. It seemed as though Jinjur hadn't noticed that Dorothy had been bawling like a baby just moments before, and Dorothy was eager to distract herself from the thoughts that had gotten her crying in the first place.

"I suppose that, if you've been talking to the King about me, you know everything there is to know. I was tired of my gender dictating what I could and could not do, and I tried to lead a revolt. I was successful for a while, but eventually the King talked me down and we came to an agreement. Now I serve has one of his hands. Jack is the other, though why he lets that Pumpkinhead handle important things is beyond me. I mean, he's nice enough for all that he's a dunce, and sometimes he says surprisingly clever things. Sometimes I'll even think that he's not that much of a dunce, but then he'll go do something so dunce-like that I can't help but scold him. Have you met Jack? Of course you have, I remember him talking all about you today when we were checking out the eastern trade route. The mouth on that pumpkin! Next time he needs a new head, I'll have to make sure that he gets a smaller mouth! But he means well, most of the time."

"Oh—that's right! Scarecrow…I mean, the King told me that you and Jack were sent to investigate some strange discrepancies in some reports. Just after breakfast Scare—the King left to assist you. I was told that you'd be gone well into the evening, so why are you back so soon? Is anything the matter?" Dorothy huffed. Jinjur had a very strong gait, much like a fine horse. The ground she covered was amazing, and Dorothy's short legs were having trouble keeping up. Jinjur turned her head while walking and raised and eyebrow in Dorothy's direction.

"You're awfully inquisitive aren't you? If you weren't such a close acquaintance of the King, I might suspect such avid questioning. But since you are, I don't see the harm in giving a little information to help stay your curiosity. We were meant to be gone much later, but the King took a pigasus, which are very fast. When he arrived, he examined what we found—and don't ask me about it because that I cannot discuss. If the King wants you to know he'll tell you, but right not it is top secret. The King's brain is remarkably fast, much faster than mine and leagues faster than Jack's. He managed to see things that we couldn't and…well, let's just say that these things required an immediate return to the Palace. So that is why we're back earlier than we're supposed to."

Before Dorothy could express her concern at the mysterious information as well as her delight at the prospect of her friend being able to come to dinner after all, Jinjur interrupted her thoughts and said,

"But don't get too excited. The King won't be joining you for dinner, and probably not at any point tomorrow either. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it later, but for now you'll just have to keep the company of your other friends."

Dorothy fell silent, the only noise resounding through the hall was their gentle footsteps. A few more people had appeared now, all people in the Palace's employ. Most waved and smiled, though Jinjur ignored them. Dorothy was less rude, and tried to return every smile and wave. It seemed like today would have to be a day of unanswered questions. While Dorothy would have preferred to have all of her questions answered, she would just have to accept the fact that she couldn't do anything about it for the moment. Instead, she decided to make do with conversation.

"So miss Jinjur—"

"No miss, just Jinjur. If you must use a title, call me General. But I really prefer just Jinjur."

"Well then, Jinjur, Scarecrow told me that part of the motivation for your revolt was the fact that you were being forced to marry. Are arranged marriages very common here?"

"Well, they used to be. Especially amongst the aristocracy. The common people, not so much. You see, nobles can be oh so very stuffy people. They spend most of their lives with their noses so high in the air that they look like pigs and the live in such high buildings and in such a "high" lifestyle that they become incredibly disconnected from everything that isn't rich or noble. They even grow disconnected from their own children. Common people, or "lesser people" as many nobles like to call them, are not like this. They cannot build fancy houses and they cannot go about the day with their noses high in the air. They are very connected to the world, because the world directly affects them. This is why they saw the folly of arranged marriages fairly early on. People are best off left marrying whomever they choose, and whenever they choose."

"Your family did not agree?"

"Naturally not!" Jinjur scoffed. "Marriages were a matter of connection and profit to them, and why shouldn't it be? They were married for convenience and status, and when my father was exiled he naturally made sure that my mother was married well in order to support our life style. It didn't matter to him that the man who would replace him was a louse, nor did it matter to my mother really. But I never did pay much attention to what my parents thought, so I rebelled."

"You must have been very brave to do so." Dorothy smiled.

"Not really." Jinjur replied, though Dorothy could tell that she was flattered by her words. They rounded a familiar corner and Dorothy found herself in one of the only recognizable places within the Emerald Palace. The doors to the great hall loomed in front of them, and two emerald-clad guards stood, with what appeared to be lances tipped with real emeralds, on either side of the two big doors. She had not seen the guards before and she supposed that their presence must mean that the hall was not in regular use. Her thoughts were confirmed by Jinjur, who moments later said,

"The guards are posted so people know not to disturb the King. And by people I mean courtiers mostly. Only those who carry the highest ranking seals on their documents may enter. You see, there are different colors and motifs for different seals denoting importance. This is how the King knows what to address first when surrounded by paperwork, as he usually is. Now, I trust that you'll be able to find your own way from here. If not, just follow the hall to the right and you shall be certain to find people, as that hall will eventually come to the kitchen. There will be people to help you find your way if you cannot."

And with that Jinjur marched up to the double doors, which opened for her magically. Dorothy caught a brief glimpse inside before they closed, and observed Scarecrow buried in paperwork and books. Jack Pumpkinhead just caught her eye as the doors were coming to a close and she managed to see his skinny wooden arm flail in greeting before the doors clicked shut. Toto looked up at her, perhaps confused as to why they weren't going in to join their friends. Dorothy, as she had a habit of talking to Toto as if he could understand human speech(and sometimes she really suspected he good) sighed down at him and said,

"Well, I guess we'll just have to find something to do, though I would really like to know what exactly is going on. But then, we've waited to come back here for five years haven't we? Oz is so magical, I don't imagine that we'll ever really be in want for something to do. And if we are, it's simply because we aren't looking hard enough."

Toto barked in agreement, and the two of them set off towards the kitchen. In truth, Dorothy thought that she would probably be able to find her way back to her room at least, but she didn't want to be sequestered in her quarters for the rest of the evening. She had quite enough of being sequestered at the Drundle Institute. Unlike before, Dorothy had no trouble finding her way. There were plenty of friendly people of all shapes and sizes, some wooden and some covered in fur, to help her on her way. Not to mention the overwhelming smell of the kitchens. Jinjur might have expressed a dislike for the kitchens but Dorothy always liked being around them. When she was younger, she used to wake up early just to watch Aunt Em knead the dough that would magically turn into that day's bread. As she came to the end of smell and found herself in front of what must have been the kitchen doors, Dorothy heard feminine voices giggling behind the door and snippets of a conversation drifted through the cracks.

"—you're terrible, really!"

"I've been called many things, but terrible never. I have been called hungry though, which is what I am now."

"But you're always hungry!" another voice giggled

"Yes, well, I am very large. Now if you wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, alright, but that's all for now! You'll ruin your dinner!"

"Dinner can never be ruined if you make it."

A fresh set of giggles burst out from behind the door, and Dorothy couldn't resist opening the door a crack to see who the voice belonged to. She smiled when she confirmed the suspicion that had been lurking at the back of her mind. The Cowardly Lion—or Leonas, as he was now known—was being scooted out of the kitchen by a giggling gaggle of woman of all assortments. One—who appeared to have iridescent wings and whiskers, winked at him as he made his way towards the door. Dorothy held it open for him, though—probably assuming that it was magic—Leonas did not notice her until he excited the kitchen. It was Toto who gave them away, and Leonas gave a toothy smile in greeting. Dorothy crossed her arms and smirked.

"I don't remember you being such a sweet talker!"

"Am I? I was only hungry." He said, though she could decipher a smile in his eyes. "So, where are you going? Were you hungry too?"

"Oh, no. I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I was just…walking I guess."

"I see." Leonas responded. He raised his big head and looked around. When he found what he was looking for, he signaled his head in that direction and said,

"Would you like to take a walk outside with me? The sun should be setting soon and there is an especially nice view from the garden."

"That sounds wonderful!" Dorothy exclaimed, and she meant it. She had caught a few glimpses of what she had assumed was the garden from her room's balcony, but as of yet she had not set one foot outside of the palace. She followed her stately friend out of a quaint door right off of the kitchen and gave out a sigh of joy as a gentle breeze met her face. Her nostrils were filled with all sorts of scents that she couldn't place and the scene that met her eyes was more fantastical than she had hoped. It was like a regular garden in some ways only on a much grander scale. There was a grassy expanse outside of the entrance which Dorothy supposed must serve as a viewing area as several white tables were scattered all around the grassy plain. The grass itself was so deep in color that it actually appeared more blue than green and Dorothy took a moment to kneel and run her hand across the silken carpet. As she had hoped it was soft and luscious and not the sort of grass that made you itch terribly. Toto was nowhere to be seen and Dorothy looked around in alarm. She had only just got him back after months of worry and tribulations and she did not fancy being away from him for too long. Leonas caught her expression and said,

"Don't worry, I saw him enter the small door into the kitchen. He did that a lot before you came. I imagine that he explored most aspects of the palace while he was waiting for your arrival."

"Oh, I suppose that is alright then. But how did you know what he did? Didn't you just arrive in the Emerald City the other day?"

"Yes, though I had come earlier too when Scarecrow sent a courier telling me that Toto had arrived without you. As the King of the Beasts—that is what they call me now you know—I can speak to pretty much any animal and understand them. So I came to see if I could learn what happened but he didn't know much. All he knew was that he was with you one moment, airborne the next, and eventually he bit the leg of his captor and fell to the ground. After that, he ran all the way here. It is remarkable that he even found his way to begin with, but dogs do have good memories for places."

"I had no idea…" Dorothy mused. She reminded herself to give Toto some extra love and attention later that evening. She had felt some of the scars in his skin from where the Winged Monkey had grabbed him, though they were mostly healed now. She had assumed that he had just been dropped near the Emerald City and had no idea that he had to wander alone and hurt for however long a time. Thinking on Toto's ordeal, Dorothy's mind felt compelled to wander back to the conversation her and Glinda had shared earlier that morning. The people, person, or thing that wished Dorothy harm might also try to harm her loved ones, as Toto had been harmed. Suddenly, her situation was brought into a different light and it made Dorothy even more nervous than before.

"Dorothy, what is troubling you? You seem very upset, and I don't like to see you upset" Leonas said sadly, and Dorothy reached her hand out and patted his mane. All at once she relayed the entirety of her conversation with Glinda, almost verbatim. While her thoughts had been abuzz for the past few hours with recollections of that morning's exchange Dorothy was relieved at the prospect of unloading all of her worries on a friendly ear. Toto's ears may have been both friendly and patient but Dorothy could not understand his words as Leonas could. Talking at someone, no matter how dear, was not nearly as helpful as talking with someone. Leonas listened patiently, never once interrupting her retelling. Detailing not only the entirety of her and Glinda's conversation but also the feelings that had been raging inside of her proved to be a time consuming task. By the time she had finished the sun had already begun setting and it's grandeur enraptured both Dorothy's and Leonas's attention. She had never seen such colours in Kansas. In fact, she doubted such colours existed on the other side of the rainbow. The atmosphere closest to the sun—now reduced to a bright ball half swallowed by the horizon—was an exuberant orange. It was a shade that was somewhere between pumpkin and dark clay, unlike anything Dorothy had ever seen in nature before. Colors bled outward from the orange and into the great expanse of the sky like watercolors, showcasing everything from royal blue to aubergine. Following the magnificent palate, at the very edge of the heavens, was a deep blue speckled with silver stars. Kansas boasted many beautiful night skies but none were as lovely as the sky over Oz. As swiftly as it arrived the fantastic painting was overtaken by the night sky and the sun fell away from the horizon. Dorothy was sad to see the spectacle fade, though the starry canvas above her head was certainly very beautiful. Leonas, his shape nothing more than a silhouette in the din of twilight, turned his attention to Dorothy.

"I don't know much about magic, though I have no trouble believing you possess it. I always thought that you were somewhat magical. If it weren't for you I never would have found my courage. I spent so long being told that I was bereft of mettle that I eventually grew to believe it. My potential to brave was swallowed by the opinions of others and my fear of failing. You helped me to realize that I was never lacking courage, merely the conviction to act on my courage. Brining out the best in people is a sort of magic, isn't it?"

Dorothy turned to her friend, sure that his keen feline eyes could see her face, and smiled broadly. She knew that he believed every word he spoke which made his compliments weigh heavily against her heart. _I'm so blessed to have such great friends_, she thought. Instinctively she reached out for his mane, letting him guide her back to the Palace kitchens. As she turned Dorothy was met with a delightful sight. Flowers that were invisible in the light awakened with a beautiful array of bioluminescence. Dorothy recalled a conversation with Hunk last winter in which he vowed her with descriptions of bioluminescent fish detailed in university textbooks and field journals. In the dark of the night, the flowers appeared to be moving bodiless in the dark very much like fish in water. The brilliant display of eerily beautiful lights was disrupted by a howling wind. Dorothy frowned and looked around attempting to discern the source of the sudden gale. Her nostrils burned with a repugnant scent, one all too familiar to her. In a frenzied instant, pulsing red eyes broke up the darkness above her and a howl of rage sent her to her knees. Her memory flashed. She was all at once both kneeling on the cold silken grass of Oz and cowering on the pavement back in Kansas. It was as though she was reliving the night of the dance while simultaneously cowering from the same demon in Oz. She numbly wondered if the Winged Monkey diving towards her was real or a fantasy. Caught between memory and reality, Dorothy barely registered the kingly roar at her side before falling into blackness.

**A/N: I am so relieved I finally finished a new chapter. This was meant to be out in March, which was when the bulk of this chapter was written. I tried my best to take advantage of Spring Break, optimistically hoping that I'd push two chapters out before being called back to school work. Alas, it was not meant to be. I really had to push myself to finish the chapter and I think it shows in certain areas. As I said in the introduction I tried my best to clean-up some of the awkward parts of the narrative and I'm mostly satisfied with the result. I may come back and reword some of the descriptions and what not in the future but presently my main focus is to get another chapter out. Now that I'm on summer break I really have no excuse not to write so look for chapter 14 around this time next week. My hope is to have gotten to chapter 17 by the time April has concluded. We shall see if I hope in vain earnest. Thanks to everyone who has followed me this far and have been patient enough to keep with me even through some unseemly gaps between publishing. See you next week!**

**P.S. I believe i've resolved the issue of names or words being randomly omitted however if you see any such omissions please let me know. The words are never absent in my word document but for some reason they tend to dissapear when I upload the files onto Doc Manager. **


	14. The Form of Truth

_A/N: I actually managed to somewhat make my deadline(give or take a day or two, but who's counting? Oh that's right, I am)! Hooray for me. I feel like this chapter turned out a little more fluidic than the previous chapter, which I think is due mostly to the fact that I didn't have to force it quite as much as before. Thanks to **Jenn **for reviewing once again. While I don't write for the reviews they most certainly help! I meant for the first half of this chapter to be reminiscent of the film "Vantage Point" in that it shows different perspectives leading up to or during an event. It's my first time attempting to write scenes in this way so I hope they don't come off as too muddled. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Moments before the irenic Eden of the Emerald Place gardens erupted into utter chaos, Leonas' thoughts were trying to identify the odd sensation that had been tingling throughout his body for the past few days. For some inexplicable reason everything had been trying his senses recently. He'd tense at the sound of rain against windowpanes, sudden bursts of laughter, and even the sound of a ticking clock. As a lion he was accustomed to managing his sometimes overbearing animal instincts. More often than not they kept him alive, though at times he had to directly contradict the feelings woven into his genetic structure. This was how he overcame cowardice and fought the flight response so common to his kind. While lions were generally bellicose creatures(when not lounging in the sun) they inherently knew when a fight promised little chance of success. If Leonas had always followed his animal instincts then he would have never gone to rescue Dorothy when she was captured by the Wicked Witch, even though his heart longed to. For the past few days however Leonas felt a sensation all at once familiar and unfamiliar. In some ways, this feeling seemed to warn of an impending danger. But how could danger reach the Emerald Palace? Glinda's magic was potent and only bolstered by the ancient magic deep within the very emeralds the palace was built upon. To breach such a Gibraltar seemed all but impossible. And yet his feelings were never wrong. At some point or another some hidden evil would breach the seemingly impregnable magical barriers of the palace. Leonas had considered consulting Glinda on the matter but found her always unavailable. Instead, he settled for being vigilant and keeping watch over his friends. Dorothy, Nick, and Scarecrow had not known it, but Leonas had never been too far away from any of them. Before they came upon him in his desperate sleepless state five years ago, Leonas had been utterly alone. Shunned from his own kind for his cowardly ways and stripped of confidence, he had spent a long time living in melancholy and fear. How long he couldn't say, for cats—even ones as large as lions—have a very different impression of time. Though Scarecrow would often remind him that Dorothy had been gone for five years Leonas always thought it felt more like twenty. Missing someone terribly can have unusual effects on one's perspective on time, especially if that one is a feline. Though he didn't know it at the time, Dorothy, Scarecrow, and Nick would be his saving grace. If they had not come along when they did Leonas was sure he would have died of loneliness. Therefor, after having acquired such dear friends, he was not about to allow someone to harm his dear companions. So he spent days waiting for something—anything—to burst out of the shadows. He had not had not spent so many hours awake since his darker days and his body was constantly reminding him of his desire to take a long cat nap. It was odd then that he did not sense the attacker until a mere seconds before the attack. The airborne creature—which he knew to be a Winged Monkey—reeked of decay. Its eyes appeared like two red planets in the sky and burned with an inhuman luminosity. In a matter of seconds the creature was upon Dorothy, seemingly ignoring the hulking lion by her side. Dorothy's eyes seemed dazed, not quite comprehending the severity of her situation. It was almost as if she was lost in a drug-induced haze, struggling to regain control but failing miserably. By the time Leonas reared up on his hind legs and roared in challenge Dorothy had collapsed to the ground. The Winged Monkey swooped low, seemingly trying to grab Dorothy's still body. Leonas, whose roar had gone unheeded, tensed his hind legs and executed a magnificent leap. Nearly eight hundred pounds of solid muscle rammed into the creature mid swoop eliciting a chilling screech. Every animal instinct in Leonas' body bade him to run from what he was sure was the result of very wicked magic but his love for Dorothy cemented him in place. With his keen eyes Leonas could see the horrific form of the now downed Winged Monkey with crystal clarity. While it may have been alive once the overwhelming smell of rott as well as the gruesome signs of decay that ravaged the creature's body told Leonas that it was very dead. The fact that it was moving about did not dissuade Leonas of this fact. For whatever reason—mostly likely to do with magic—this poor dead shell of a creature was being manipulated into doing someone's bidding. But Leonas did not have time to think. His mind did not work as swiftly as Scarecrow's nor did was his heart full of pity as Nick's might've been. He knew only that his dear friend was in danger and that he had to protect her. Stepping over Dorothy's still form, Leonas dug his paws into the ground and stood firmly above her, using his incredible mass to shield her from any impending aerial attacks. A few yards away the felled creature stirred. It wheezed a fog of fetid breath as its body popped back into place. It jerked into an upright position though it's neck appeared to be snapped in two. Wriggling white droplets spewed forth from its lopsided mouth. <em>Maggots<em>, Leonas guessed. Apparently unperturbed by it's broken neck, the Winged Monkey ascended into the air with a few great gusts of its wings. Tensing his muscles in anticipation, Leonas waited for the fell being to make its move. It never had the chance. As it rose higher into air, possibly in hopes of dive bombing its opponent, a sliver of white light began to weave in and out of the air around it. Confused, the creature tried to fly out of the lights' path only to be enveloped in a completely enclosed pod of light. The pod hovered in the air for a while before finally settling a few inches above the ground. As it descended, another burst of light appeared only this time it brought a familiar face. Glinda, whose white dress pulsed gently in the dark of night, appeared in front of Leonas.

"I apologize for the delay," she said. "I was out of the Palace when I sensed the disturbance in Dorothy's magic. I knew that she was in some danger but I never would have suspected someone capable of bypassing the Palace's defenses."

Unlike Nick and Scarecrow Leonas did not think to inquire as to how such a thing could have happened or where Glinda had been. His only thought was for Dorothy who was still unconscious on the ground. Gingerly stepping over Dorothy once more he pointed his paw and gestured towards her still face.

"Dorothy collapsed before the creature ever touched her. In fact, she seemed to be acting very odd before it appeared. It looked as though she suddenly became groggy."

Glinda bent down beside Dorothy, her volumous skirts covering the grass like fresh snowfall. She placed her thin hand on Dorothy's head and muttered some foreign phrase. A light from her palm spread over Dorothy's body and blanketed her in a gentle throbbing light. In response to Glinda's magical interference, the ruby slippers shimmered brightly and dissipated the white light.

"Is she alright?" Leonas whimpered as the fear he had swallowed during his fight finally found its way back up to his heart.

"Physically she's fine," Glinda mused "but her mind appears to be locked away. It seems as though her budding magic sensed some sort of conflict in her psyche and tried to protect her by forcing her into stasis. It should pass in a little while once her body realizes the perceived threat is gone. It is unusual though, that her magic would have chosen this course of action. I wonder why it did not choose more proactive means of defense…"

"But she'll be alright?"

"Yes, I believe she will. Right now she must be rest. I need to secure the creature elsewhere so I trust you to take her. For the moment, don't ask for assistance from any of the palace workers. For the creature to have come in unnoticed would have required aid of someone from the inside who possesses an entry key."

"What about Scarecrow and Nick?" Leonas asked as Glinda levitated Dorothy's still form onto Leonas' back.

"The King is in the middle of a very important meeting. If she were still in danger I would not think again about calling him, but as it is there isn't anything he can do now that he won't be able to do when he's finished his meeting. I'm sure he'll be upset by this but I think it is the most prudent course of action. I will inform Nick myself."

With that Glinda and her captive dissapered in a short burst of light leaving Leonas to his task. As Leonas headed towards the door he and Dorothy used to gain access to the garden, Toto trotted out to greet him. His hair was on edge, no doubt because he smelled the familiar stench of the creatures that had captured him months ago. Upon seeing Dorothy unconscious, Toto barked briskly. Leonas, not pausing in his walk, replied,

"She's alright, but you missed quite an event"

The lion and the dog continued on down the quiet hall, quietly conversing.

* * *

><p>While Dorothy and Lion were touring the garden, Toto decided that he'd loiter around the kitchens in hope of receiving a savory treat. While he had been separated from Dorothy, Toto became a regular resident of the Palace. He went everywhere most residents went, including the kitchens. Fortunately for Toto, a glamorous little entrance had been carved into the bottom of one of the kitchen doors to allow access to the Palace's smaller residents. Toto and Leonas had often patrolled the kitchen for tasty morsels and always left with bloated bellies. Today had been no exceptions. The kitchen was full of many workers, but Toto's favorites were the three women who had been conversing with Leonas earlier. While they liked to tease their guests by initially refusing to allow them snacks they always intended to give food away. Toto did not quite understand why humans liked to tease dogs—and lions—with food, but he patient dog and didn't mind waiting too much. After a few minutes of teasing he was not disappointed and he exited the kitchen fully satiated. He sniffed the air for Dorothy's sent, intent on catching his little girl before she missed him. For Dorothy was still very much Toto's little girl. It didn't matter if she had grown a little larger or looked a little stranger. She would always be his pet(for Toto surely did not consider himself the pet) and he felt compelled to look after her especially after she had been so upset less than an hour before. He didn't fully understand why she had been upset as human speech was a difficult language to grasp. He suspected that she missed home—her other home. Oz was her home too. Sometimes people became very upset at the idea of more than one home but dogs knew better than to worry about such silly things. Home was where you were comfortable and where your friends were, and right now all of Dorothy's friends were in Oz and Oz was where she was most comfortable. Still, while he didn't entirely understand why she was so upset, he knew that it was his job to comfort her. Her other friends might help her feel a little better, but only Toto knew how to make her feel all-better. Just as he was about to turn the corner that would lead to the garden, a familiar whistle met Toto's ears. He had heard this whistle many times during his stay at the Emerald Palace and the whistle always promised a treat. Deciding that Dorothy would be safe for a few more minutes, Toto trotted towards the direction of the whistle. Toto figured that it was a sound only other animals could hear, as people never seemed to respond to it. The whistleblower was further away than Toto thought and the detour took at least ten minutes at a brisk pace. He stopped once to drink out of an Emerald fountain before turning a corner and trotting down a vacant corridor. Or at least, to human eyes it appeared vacant. By a window, shadowed by the darkness outside, the whistleblower waited with a treat in hand. Toto's tail wagged in greeting as he trotted forward to meet his strange friend. The whistleblower bent down and scratched Toto's ear.<p>

"Hello there my friend. It's been a while I know, but I couldn't get away. To make up for my long absence I have brought an especially delectable treat."

While Toto was still rather full from his late afternoon/early evening snack he could never refuse a treat. The whistleblower laid the treat on the ground and Toto nibbled on it appreciatively. While he did, the whistleblower removed a small piece of shimmering thread from their coat and secured it around Toto's collar. Toto was too involved in his treat to care. When he had almost finished a kingly roar sounded in the distance, alerting Toto's keen ears to the chaos outside. With only his little girl in mind, Toto abandoned the remaining crumbs of his snack and took off at full speed down the hall and around the corner. By the time a palace worker passed by, the whistleblower had disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p>Having been sequestered in the great hall ever since his return, Scarecrow was not aware of the conflict on the grounds. Instead, his mind was occupied with other troubling thoughts—thoughts that had been growing rapidly since he had left the Palace that morning. He had left in an attempt to investigate a slew of unusual reports centered around the eastern trade route. The land east of the Emerald City was the Winkie Country, which was currently headed by Scarecrow's dear friend Nick. Part of the king wanted to send for Nick, as he knew the going-ons of the trade route directly affected his kingdom. Presently however Scarecrow would have never to tell Nick as he himself was still attempting to unravel that morning's mysteries. Opting to only call his friend when he had something worthwhile to tell him, Scarecrow settled for the ears of his two closest advisors. Jinjur and Jack were busy bickering while Scarecrow was lost in his own thoughts, though in truth it was only Jinjur who was bickering. Jack was a very placid soul and never really argued about anything—a fact that served to balance the pugnacious temperament of Jinjur.<p>

"Why in the world would you think that spindly worms are responsible for the thefts? That's entirely nonsensical, not to mention moronic!" Jinjur huffed, squinting at her pumpkinheaded comrade.

"Spindly worms sometimes steal pumpkin seeds from my head. So they have a history of thefts you see." Jack explained. His twig fingers reached into his carved mouth and pulled out a tiny, fuzzy purple and green worm. The worm fussily squeaked in protest as jack waved it around in demonstration. Jinjur's response was to frown deeply and glare darts at Jack.

"And how do you suppose a tiny little worm would steal over fifty-pounds of cargo, hmm? Please tell me because I would _love _to know."

"Well," Jack began, knocking his hollow head with a twiggy fist. Sometimes, when Jack found it especially hard to focus—which was in fact most times—he would gently knock his head so as to remind himself to think. "They would eat it of course. Like they eat my seeds. There would have to be an awful lot of them though."

"Eat? EAT? You think a horde of spindly worms assaulted a merchant caravan and ATE fifty pounds worth of goods—some of which weren't even edible!"

"Well, if something can be eaten then it must be edible" Jack reasoned, which only served to further incense Jinjur. Throwing her arms up in a most unladylike manner, Jinjur let out a frustrated groan. Turning towards Scarecrow, whose head was bent in thought, she said,

"Your majesty, please help me knock some sense into Jack's pumkinhead! Surely you see how irrational his theory is!"

"Hmm?" Scarecrow murmured, startled out of his reverie.

"You weren't listening to a word we've been saying for the past half hour have you?" Jinjur asked in exasperation, plopping back into her chair with an audible thud.

"I'm sorry. I did ask you two here to help me sort my thoughts and I've hardly said two words. But I was listening, and I don't think spindly worms are the culprits."

"Thank you!" Jinjur said, gloating like a child whose argument had been settled by their parent. Her gloating was short lived however, as Scarecrow turned to Jack and said,

"But I do not think it is a bad idea. If the caravan had been closer to a farm I might be inclined to consider it more, as spindly worms generally dwell in tilled soil. The particular point in the trade route where the thefts occurred is too far north for spindly worms."

"Oh, I guess you're right" Jack said, ignoring the look of defeat that crossed Jinjur's face. "Oogaboo is north, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. I doubt there's any correlation though. The Oogabooians might not be very wealthy but they're hardly thieves. Queen Ann is far too noble to ever resort to such an act."

"And we have to consider what Oogaboo would even gain from stealing—drat it, my mind had gone blank. What exactly was stolen again?" Jinjur asked, rubbing her throbbing temples.

"Textiles, scrap metal, and dyes" Scarecrow elaborated. His keen mind remembered the precise amount of each item that was stolen as well as who each item belonged to.

"Yes, those. What would Oogabooians possibly gain from stealing such common wares? No, I think you're right my King. The question is who would want to steal those items?"

"Someone who wanted to make a dress?" Jack suggested. Scarecrow, sensing that Jinjur was about to release one of her infamous sassy remarks, decided to prevent another one-sided argument.

"Yes, textiles and dyes are generally used to make garments. That still doesn't account for the scrap metal however."

"Well, I give in. My brain is good for many things but irrational puzzles are not among them. There's no reason someone in Oz would want to steal all of those things. They're all fairly cheap at market—as I seem to recall no really expensive textiles were stolen—and scarp metal can be found at any smithy."

"Then I guess no one would want to steal them, so maybe no one stole them at all? Maybe they've just been misplaced." Jack suggested.

"Misplaced? I hardy doubt all of the merchants just happened to misplace chunks of their stock Jack." Jinjur sighed, fighting back a panoply of colorful insults. In truth, Jinjur did not dislike Jack. Quite the contrary, she felt a sisterly affection for him. But she had always been quick to anger, even when she was a little girl. And while Jinjur was a very organized and logical person, Jack was a very disorganized and illogical person. At times, Jinjur found it difficult to tolerate his words—even if they were harmless.

"No one? No one…" Scarecrow mumbled, stroking his chin in thought.

"You don't actually agree with him?" Jinjur gasped.

"No, not entirely. I don't think the wares were misplaced. However, Jack is right in that no one would want to steal these things. There were much more expensive items to be stolen. So why were only the cheapest commodities taken? The answer: no one wanted to steal them."

"I'm confused" Jack frowned.

"Me too" Jinjur said.

"It's quite simply really. The items were not taken because of their worth or value because the person who stole them did not require them. The fact that they were stolen had nothing to do with desire but rather opportunity. The opportunity to distract us."

"Distract us from what?" Jinjur and Jack asked in unison. Jinjur, startled at the fact that she and Jack had actually had the same thought jumped back in her seat. Jack, finding the coincidence rather funny, smiled broadly.

"I've been gathering intelligence for a very long time, both from the reports the two of you give me and from Palace gossip. Glinda warned me as soon as I came into power that it would be fatal to ignore the Nome King's growing power across the dessert. While I've never thought it possible for the Nome King's army to breach the Emerald City, I've still entertained the possibility that he may possess magic of which I am completely unaware. For a few weeks I spent an hour every evening trying to come up with a contingency plan incase his army did invade. If they were going to try anything they would have only two routes available to them; the sky and the ground. I do not believe for a moment that an entire army could be magicked here. Not only would it take massive skill, it would also set off every magical alarm and defense in the palace. While it's theoretically possible for someone to slip past the palace's defenses, a whole army could never do this. The Palace's defenses extend to the sky above, so an aerial attack would be questionable. It would be possible for an army to fly across the dessert and approach on foot in an attempt to seize the Palace. In this case they would have to have quite a bit of magic if they hoped to penetrate our walls. This option is possible but I don't think it's plausible. So, what other theory are we left with?"

"They'd have to come underground" Jinjur responded immediately, glad that the subject matter was finally something she could wrap her head around. Riddles may trump her, but military strategy and logistics are Jinjur's specialty. "But is that even possible? The foundation of this city runs deep into the ground and is built upon very old magic. It seems to me as though it would be even more difficult to enter the city that way than it would be on land."

"For anyone but the nomes it would be. But remember nomes are in actuality rock fairies and they specialize in utilizing the old magic buried in the earth. Additionally, as the magic underground is very old it has a mind of it's own. Glinda tells me that it actually had a consciousness and, when I've been to the lower points of the Palace I've actually heard it. It seems intelligent, but I've never actually spoken with it. It speaks to me at times but never lingers for conversation. In light of these facts my chief concern is that the Nome King, who is very accustomed to dealing with old magic, might somehow be able to manipulate the magic below and gain entrance to the palace from underground."

"So that's it then! The mystery is solved. The thefts have been distractions and I need to start working on a plan to combat underground invasions" Jinjur declared triumphantly. The thought of an invasion didn't bother her much as she was sure that any plan the Nome King concocted she could combat. Just as she was about to dismiss herself and go dream up different battle scenarios, Scarecrow gestured for her to stay.

"Well, that's most of it. We're still left with a piece of our puzzle that doesn't appear to fit."

Sighing, Jinjur sat back down. She really hated complicated puzzles. Jack, who was unable to focus on one matter for too long a time, was playing with his new pet spindly worm.

"Well your Majesty, bedazzle me with your enormous intellect. For I am much too tired to think of anything remotely complicated."

"There is still the eye-witness report to account for. Two of the merchants claimed to have seen a strange silver haired man loitering about around the time of the theft. Though his hair was silver he himself is not reported to be old, but rather a young man. From what I was told he is most certainly not a nome."

"A spy perhaps?" Jinjur suggested.

"Perhaps…" Scarecrow said, drawing into himself. Jinjur, having known the king for many years, knew his body language well enough to sense that he was holding something back. She also knew that, when his mind finally decoded this new mystery, he would tell her. Content to leave him to his thoughts, Jinjur rose from her chair and exited the great hall. On her way out a courier with carrying Glinda's personal seal rushed into the room. Clearly, he had been waiting for the meeting to adjourn. Nodding a brief greeting to the door guards, Jinjur left to retire for the night. In the morning she would plan for battle.

* * *

><p>Leonas carefully made his way up the flight of stairs that lead to the royal guest sweets. He was ever cautious of jostling Dorothy and worried that, as she was unable to grab his fur, she would fall and tumble down the steps. As a result the trip had been slow going. Every slope would cause his muscles to tense and his body to slow to a sluggish rate. Fortunately it looked as though this was the last set of stairs he would have to contend with. Toto trotted along behind him, insisting that he be there just in case Dorothy fell. Both of their fears were ill founded however, as they made all made it safely to Dorothy's suite door. Toto barked curtly and the doors magically opened for them, shutting after they entered. Carefully Leonas made his way over to her oversized bed and let her roll onto the soft mattress. Unsure of what else to do, Leonas settled by the window in case another horrific creature attempted entrance. Toto hopped onto the bed—an impressive feat as the bed was rather high—and took his place by Dorothy's side. A few minutes after he arrived there came a knock on the suite door. Leonas inhaled deeply and registered a familiar oily scent. Toto barked at the doors, causing them to open once more and admit entrance to their tin friend. Though Nick was made of tin the magic holding him together gave him a very animated face. Presently he looked ragged and tired. Nick made his way over to Leonas and took a seat by the window.<p>

"How is she?" He asked, looking at his still friend with concern.

"She hasn't woken up yet, but she seems to be fine. Did Glinda tell you everything?"

"Not everything. She only told me that something had happened and that I should meet you in Dorothy's suite."

Leonas began to tell Nick of that evening's ordeal, never pausing. When at last he had finished, Nick wrung his hands in worry.

"I cannot believe this could happen here of all places. And if any there was any doubt in my mind about the creatures that crossed into Dorothy's world there are none now. Someone—or something—is manipulating the dead. And going by the reports of missing Winged Monkeys from a few years back, the dead are citizens of my land. Oh I wish I knew more!"

"Did you ever doubt Dorothy's account?" Leonas asked curiously. Nick shook his head sadly.

"I never doubted what she believed she saw. I only hoped that it wasn't the case. I feel somehow responsible for all of this…"

Toto yipped from his place on the bed and Leonas added,

"Toto is right. You could not have known what was going on. Clearly whoever is behind these attacks is skilled enough to keep even Glinda guessing. You had no cause to think that such events would occur."

"I know you're right. I still can't help feeling the way I do though—my heart won't allow for anything else. Dorothy has suffered twice at the hands of these creatures, both in places where she should have felt safe."

"Don't worry about Dorothy too much" Leonas mused, turning his eyes towards his sleeping friend. "She is stronger than she appears. Truly she has the heart of a lion"

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Nick followed his stately friend's gaze and looked at the still form of Dorothy.

"So it's true, she really is magical?" He asked

"It would appear so" Leonas replied.

"I can't say I'm surprised. She always did have a magical way about her, from the way she spoke to the way that she emboldened us all. She helped me remember that I still had a heart. There is nothing more magical than bringing out the heart of a person, afterall."

Leonas gave a toothy smile. "I said something very similar to her. I don't imagine that Scarecrow will be surprised either."

"Speaking of which," Nick said, pulling out his ticking heart in order to gauge the time, "where is our stuffed friend? I would think he would have beaten me here with his vast knowledge of the Palace's secret routes and passages."

"Glinda decided to hold off telling him until he'd finished his meeting."

"I don't imagine he'll take that well," Nick said bemusedly as he imagined what would surely be a heated conversation betwixt Glinda and the King.

"No," Leonas consented, "I don't imagine that he will"

* * *

><p>"How could you not have told me!" Scarecrow demanded. He was not prone to yelling. In fact, this was one of only three times since he had been stuffed that he lost his temper. Scarecrow was not a pugnacious individual, nor was he generally recalcitrant. While he was the king he respected Glinda's wisdom and authority over matters of magic. This time however he felt that she was entirely in the wrong. After Jinjur had left—no doubt to plan for battle—a courier bearing Glinda's seal entered the hall. Like all of Glinda's assistants, the courier was a young lady from the Quadling country. The message had been brief and to the point:<p>

_An unfortunate event has occurred and it requires both our attentions. Come see me in the Scrying tower as soon as you receive this message_.

Scarecrow, utilizing one of the Palace's many hidden passages, arrived at the tower in less than five minutes. When he greeted Glinda and inquired as to the nature of her note he was met with the same story as Nick. After a few seconds of stupefied shock, Scarecrow's burlap skin flushed with anger.

"How could you not tell me? The meeting could have been postponed!"

"As I said earlier, the danger had passed. There was nothing you could have done then that you can't do now" Glinda reasoned calmly. She had anticipated that Scarecrow would be miffed at being left out of the loop for what had now been almost two hours.

"I don't think it's fair to judge what I may have done Glinda, as you never gave me the chance to do anything. Aside from the fact that two of my dearest friends were endangered in my kingdom, as the king I had a right to know that my city's walls had been breached!"

Glinda paused and took a sip from her porcelain tea-cup. It was filled with a brew specifically targeted at stress. And Glinda was most definitely feeling stressed. Outwardly she showed no signs of inner turmoil, which only irritated Scarecrow more. He was not used to being angry and hated how it made him feel. Anger dulled his senses and slowed his brain and his brain—as he was often reminded—was his greatest asset. Glinda allowed her guest to stew a bit longer before replying, hoping that he would manage to calm himself down.

"I understand that you're frustrated as it is a very frustrating situation. I am frustrated that someone managed to breech my defenses and at the prospect of a traitor in the Palace. Afterall, if there is a traitor then it is most surely one of my assistants for no one else could perform the spell required to transfer entrance keys."

The ever rational nature of Scarecrow's brain gradually usurped his simmering anger. Entrance keys were just that—keys. However, they were not physical keys but magical keys. Denizens of the Emerald City and those born within her border were gifted with life-long keys. These keys could not be removed, though they could be revoked in the unlikely event of exile. Visitors received temporary keys for the duration of their stay and faded away as soon as they left the borders. These keys were created by Glinda herself and usually administered by her personal assistants. There was only a handful of people in all of Oz who knew the secrets behind the keys and fewer still who could have orchestrated the attack earlier in the evening. Every time a new key was created it was logged in a special book. As no new keys had been added, the Winged Monkey would only be allowed access through someone else's key. The spells required for the transference of keys were incredibly complicated which left only a few candidates to look at.

"I still wish you had told me sooner" Scarecrow sighed.

"Perhaps next time I will but even I cannot change what has been done." Glinda smiled graciously. Scarecrow seriously doubted that Glinda felt that she had done anything wrong, though he had to concede to her logic. There was probably nothing he could have done a few hours ago that he couldn't do now and if he had been interrupted he may not have been able to sort out the mystery of the trade route. All but one mystery, that is.

"Well, since I'm eager to check on Dorothy I'll try to make this brief. During deliberations, we came to the conclusion that the thefts have been a distraction. As these thefts have been occurring on and off for the past two months it is safe to assume that whatever we're being distracted from is a very time consuming task. I believe that the Nome King may be utilizing his magic in an attempt to dig a tunnel leading to the Palace. Since the thefts have been mainly near Oogaboo country I believe that there is something near Yips. You know, it's funny—while we were discussing the possibility of an underground siege I mentioned how it was technically possible for a small handful of assailants to enter via entrance key fraud. It's almost ironic that, while discussing such a thing, an assailant happened to enter the grounds."

Glinda turned her now almost empty tea glass three times left before dumping the contents onto a sauce. After a few minutes she turned the glass upright and began to inspect the insides.

"Tea leaf divination?" Scarecrow guess and Glinda nodded by way of response.

"It's an old magic," she said, all the while turning the glass in order to examine the tea leaves from a different perspective. "If you're right about the Nome King—and I suspect that you are—then the only way he'd be able to bypass the Palace's magic would be to manipulate the old magic below. It's a curious consciousness, and rather lonely. I've spoken to at times of the course of my life but it is a shy thing. The Nome King specializes with such magics, though he doesn't treat them with kindness. Rather he seeks to bend them to his will. I think that it is time that I pay another visit below. First however I have a captive to deal with."

Glinda beckoned towards the far corner of the tower. Scarecrow followed her gesture and found himself staring at a glowing white pod. Judging by Glinda's account of events he knew that it had to contain the Winged Monkey that attacked Dorothy. The curious side of his brain—ever insatiable—wanted nothing more than to stay and witness Glinda's examination. His heart however, sick for his friends, and was eager to attend to them. Sensing their meeting had come to an end, Glinda flicked her hand and opened the tower doors. Before leaving, Scarecrow took one final glance at the bizarre pod. As he stepped out into the archway, something occurred to him. Before the door closed he asked,

"What did your cup say?"

As the door came to a close, Scarecrow just caught a glimpse of a weak smile. Something about her expression in that fleeting moment bothered Scarecrow but he decided to catalogue the notion and store it away for later. Now he had some friends to see.

* * *

><p>When Scarecrow entered Dorothy's room he found his two friends in the middle of a deep discussion. Upon seeing him enter, Nick and Leonas beckoned for Scarecrow to join them. It had been almost three hours since the incident and Dorothy had not stirred. Nick, rendered incredibly nervous, would wander over periodically and make sure she was still breathing. Toto, who was still snuggled against Dorothy's side, thought this entirely unnecessary. If his little girl were having difficulty breathing then he would be the first to know. Leonas was much more patient, content not to wander from his post at the window. The uneasy feeling that he had been carrying since before the attack still lingered though it was much more subdued. He was not sure if this feeling was due to nerves regarding his friend's state or if it was another warning of something yet to come. He had just begun to discuss these feelings with Nick when Scarecrow entered.<p>

"How is she?" Scarecrow asked, tip-toeing towards the window.

"Breathing" Nick affirmed, and for a moment Scarecrow felt a pang of panic.

"Is there a reason why she might not be breathing?" He asked fearfully. Nick sighed and replied,

"Not that I can think of, but I'm no doctor. I've just been worried since she's been so still. Glinda said that she'd likely regain consciousness once the danger had passed. She's out of danger, so why hasn't she woken up? You don't think she could be hurt, do you?"

"She was never harmed" Leonas said firmly. "I made sure of that"

"Of course you did Leonas, and I'm very grateful that you were there with her" Scarecrow smiled, not wishing to offend his friend.

"Yes, of course you wouldn't let her be hurt" Nick amended hastily. "But she's been, well, magical for a while now. And as a thing of magic I know a thing or two about it and how difficult it can be to manage. I'm just worried that the magic from her slippers could have harmed her…"

"I'm sure Glinda would have sensed something if that were so. No, I think her mind is just exhausted. It wasn't that long ago when she was still in that dreadful _school_, and I hesitate to use the word 'school'. Schools are places of life and learning, not horror and dread. She's been through quite a bit since she left Oz and I can only imagine that today's event was an unpleasant reminder of times past. I'm sure she'll be awake by morning."

Scarecrow's confidence bolstered his friend's spirits. Joining his friends, the three continued on conversing. They talked of many things, including the meeting in the Great Hall. The thefts directly impacted Nick, so it was his right to know. And Leonas, a capable ruler, was not foreign to problems of state. He had stopped many uprisings during his first year of reign during which many animals were reluctant to follow the banner of one once deemed cowardly. A few minutes into their conversation, Toto began to bark. Leonas was the first to notice as he was fluent in dog.

"What's he trying to say?" Nick asked. Leonas tilted his head forward and attentively listened to Toto's frantic words.

"It makes little sense to me. He says that something is pulling Dorothy. But I don't see—" as Leonas was attempting to explain Toto's scrambled message, a strange light over took Dorothy. Nick and Scarecrow, both recognizing magic, simultaneously called for Glinda. Moments later, Glinda appeared before them. Without being told she strode towards Dorothy's form. She extended her hands before her and spoke a strange language. Immediately, the ruby slippers shone through the sheets and fizzled. The magics seemed to be clashing and as a result produced a shower of pink sparkles. The atmosphere of the room became so laden with magic that the air was practically damp. The fur on Leonas' back began to prickle and Scarecrow felt a sensation similar to the times when Glinda attempted to magic his skin against fire. It was almost as if his life force was being moved around inside him. Nick's heart-shaped pocket watch began to spin backwards and Toto snuggled underneath Dorothy's arm and waited. Just when it seemed as though Glinda's magic was gaining the upper hand she suddenly dropped her arms and let her power dissipate. Within seconds, Dorothy's body erupted into a powerful red light. She shimmered for a few moments before disappearing entirely. Seconds ago, Dorothy Gale was safe in Oz and recovering from a traumatizing event. Now all that remained was a vacant bed and both Dorothy and Toto were nowhere in sight. Scarecrow was the first to recover his speech, upon which he turned on Glinda and exclaimed,

"Why did you stop? You were winning against whatever it was. You could have—"

"I could have killed her" Glinda finished, and Scarecrow blinked in surprise. "While the magic was initiated by an outside source, it was her own magic that I was fighting. Subconsciously she wanted to—or was manipulated in believing that she wanted to—go to wherever it was that the magic was taking her. The magic in those slippers is very old and very powerful. Because of this it is wild and unpredictable, and responds to base emotions rather than specific commands. In time she'll learn to master this, but presently I couldn't risk a magical backfire, as any such backfire would surely rebound upon Dorothy. For her sake I had to let her go."

The three friends looked at Glinda in shock before turning to gaze at the bed in defeat. A little less than a week ago they had finally been reunited with their dear friend after half a decade of waiting. Now, in less than a moment, she had left them alone once more.

* * *

><p><em>AN_: _The next chapter will focus on catching up with Hunk and gang in their quest to discover the fate of Dorothy and her apparent absence from the Drundle institute. Look for it around the same time next week, give or take a day. See you next week!_


	15. The Perpitrator of Truth

**Chapter 15: The Perpetraitor of Truth**

**A/N: (insert brilliant excuse for tardy chapters here. Accept award of creativity) In all seriousness though I am sorry that this chapter is two months late. I was doing so well there for a while wasn't I? For whatever reason I simply could not get this chapter going. As a writer, I've come to the conclusion that while writing quirks are normal there are some quirks that must be done away with. Waiting to "be in the mood" to write is one of those quirks. I'm going to try to do better with writing my way out of blocks instead of waiting for them to subside on their own. I think I was tripping myself up by having word count expectations. From now on I am going to write what feels right. I don't think that anyone but me cares if chapter lengths vary a bit. Onto story notes, I wrote in the postscript of the last chapter that this chapter would focus mainly on catching up with Hunk and gang. **

**Unfortunately, that just wasn't the route this chapter ended up taking. Never fear though—we will see more of them in the next few chapters. A large section of this chapter features different voice speaking telepathically at the same time. I've tried to make it clear whom is whom but if I've instead concocted a confusing mess please drop me a note. **

* * *

><p>Dorothy was in a dark place. All at once she was both outside of herself and trapped within her subconscious mind. The smell of the winged aberration's fetid flesh still burned within her nostrils. Distantly, her mind registered Leonas's protective roar. Suddenly she was moving. Voices bounced off the walls she knew were around her but could not see.<p>

_I need to wake up_. _My friends will be worried_.

Her body drank in the warmth from what she guessed was Leonas's fur. Every now and then she vaguely registered being taken up stairs or around a corner. Panic took over as she realized that she had no control over her limbs. She had heard Hunk mention such a phenomenon before during his last Christmas visit. What had he called it?

_Sleep paralysis._

Dorothy however was most certainly not asleep. She was paralyzed and blind to the world around her but her mind was most definitely awake. And it was on edge. Was the castle under attack? How had such a creature managed to enter what should have been the most secure area in all of Oz? How had Glinda not detected the breach? Her temples began to throb dully as her mind nervously rattled off a list of fears and questions.

_Always questions, seldom answers_.

She felt the atmosphere around her change. Her numb limbs rolled around her for a brief moment before sinking down into the plush comforter of what she assumed was a bed. Snippets of a conversation, muffled by the billowy pillow underneath her head, swirled around the blackness with a dizzying speed. Dorothy did her best to concentrate on the words though it taxed her to do so. Most of the conversation slipped out of her mind like water through cupped hands. Despite all of this, Dorothy would manage to keep the words just long enough to discern their meanings before they dropped away into the abyss.

"How is she?"

_Nick! _

Dorothy could hear the concern in her dear friend's voice. She was so excited to know that he was near and safe that she missed most of the reply that followed.

"—Glinda tell you everything?"

_Leonas! Nick! Help me! I can't move! I can hear you but I can't move!_

She tried to will them to hear her, hoping that the magic that Glinda claimed she now possessed would help break the lull that was holding her body hostage. For one fleeting moment Dorothy thought she heard—no, felt her magic reply. As quickly as she had felt it the magic died away and she was once again left trying to piece together fragments of conversations. Maybe, if she could capture enough fragments of her friends' intercourse, she could figure out what had happened in the courtyard.

"—can't believe this—manipulating the dead—dead citizens—"

"—could not have known—no cause to think—"

"I know you're right—my heart won't—Dorothy has suffered—"

Don't blame yourself Nick! Why would you—how could you know! Don't feel hurt on my account. Don't you know how much better you make me feel? How much safer and wanted you all make me feel?

Her mind rattled around, too tired to keep catching words. Where was Scarecrow? Had something happened to him? Dorothy's heart ached at the thought. Since she had returned from Oz those many years ago to her comparatively dull side of the rainbow she seemed to bring worry and chaos wherever she went. She worried Auntie Em and Uncle Henry with her "dangerous" fancies and loose imagination. She frightened away the other children with her tales of magic and witches. Until Ruth came along, Dorothy had no real friends outside of her farm and the companions she was forced to leave in Oz. And what had come of that relationship? Dorothy got Roman mauled and scared away one of the only normal friends she had ever had. Her memories drifted back to that painful day in the Gulch residence when Ruth refused to meet her eyes with anything but fear. She had been disappointed then at the girl who was supposed to be her friend. Now, with the most recent catastrophe still fresh in her mind, Dorothy found herself viewing Ruth's perspective in a clearer light. Of course she was frightened. What did Ruth know of Winged Monkeys, witches, and cursed slippers? She had not been exposed to such things as Dorothy had—she had not lived the adventure or made dear friends along the way. Up until that night at the dance Ruth had only ever known such things to happen in books. And when she was at last exposed to the reality of magic she had only seen the wicked sort. If Dorothy ever managed to find a way home she vowed never to look upon Ruth with anger or resentment.

And what about Penelope? She may have been an unpleasant girl but she didn't deserve to die like that. What had Dorothy known about her life really? She, who had only suffered that twisted cage that bearded bog weevil Drundle called a school for less than a fortnight. Penelope had been there for years, no doubt turned unpleasant by a life of captivity. The sickeningly sweet smell of charred flesh consumed by an insatiable magic permeated through the darkness. She recalled the look of surprise and agony that had shaped Penelope's face in the final seconds of her existence…

No! STOP! Don't think of that. Don't ever think of that again. You cant'…I can't bare to think of that ever again…

As if sensing her discomfort, Toto tucked himself under Dorothy's arm and whimpered softly.

Your thoughts are loud

If she could, Dorothy would have jumped out of her skin at the sudden appearance of an alien voice in her mind. Since she could not react physically, Dorothy settled for mental screaming instead. This prompted the mysterious voice to once again invade the privacy of her psyche.

_**Too loud. It hurts, but it interests as well. **_

_Who are you? _Dorothy managed. Surprisingly, conversing mentally was not as taxing as she thought it would be. If she could manage to somehow contact Glinda this way then maybe she would be able to wake-up her errant limbs.

**Who? I am…many and one. I am old and young. I am emerald and stone. I am beneath and above the throne. **

_I don't understand. How are you talking to me?_

Before she could receive a reply—though Dorothy doubted she would be told anything understandable—a voice from the physical realm perforated her thoughts and drew her back to reality.

"—I'm very grateful that you were there with her."

_Scarecrow! _He was all right!

"—she's been through quite a bit since she's left Oz—awake by morning."

She wanted so much to give him a sign. She was sure that if she could just move something, _anything_, that Scarecrow's keen mind would deduce the intent. Preparing herself for another exhausting attempt at corralling some of the magic she was sure was running unchecked inside of her, Dorothy did not notice the pull until it was too late. Invisible tendrils shot out of the darkness, ensnaring her mind and coaxing her to some distant realm. Her ears were ringing with Toto's frantic barks.

_Help me! I don't…I don't want to leave! Not again! _

**Come dear girl, **a feminine voice purred. Dorothy was sure that she had heard it before, though where she could not remember. **Do not be afraid. Do not fight against me. **

Another set of tendrils, burning bright in the darkness, tried to latch onto her. Dorothy intrinsically recognized Glinda's magic. She tried to call out to for the good witch's help to no avail. As two magics waged war in Dorothy's mind her feet began to burn. The sensation felt like fire in its heat but water in its fluidity. The burning began to spread through her blood until she eventually felt like a human pyre.

Let go

_What? Who are you! Please…please help me! I'm burning!_

The fire deep has had long to sleep. It responds to the call of its mother's KeepI don't understand—Let go. Your fire will love you if you let go but burn you if you stay. LET GO

Common sense told Dorothy not to listen to strange voices in her head. There was something strangely compelling about this particular voice however. Somehow, Dorothy knew that she could trust it. It was not logical. It was not rational. But it was right. Collecting her nerves, Dorothy stopped fighting against herself. She let her body fall into the burning heat. She let the fluidity guide her into relaxation. All at once, the burning became much more manageable. In fact, it actually became comfortable. Glinda's magic lingered a few seconds more before leaving her to the caressing magic belonging to the unidentified female voice. The darkness around her lit up in a brilliant display of purple and green. Her body moved through space effortlessly. After what seemed to be several minutes of gentle drifting, Dorothy felt herself return to the physical realm once again. Without giving her current situation any more thought Dorothy let her mind capture some much-needed sleep. The fear of what she might find when she finally opened her eyes ebbed away. All that mattered now was sleep.

* * *

><p>For a machine that was praised for its speed and efficiency, Emily found the train to be painfully slow. Quite a few years had passed since she was last a passenger aboard any sort of locomotive. Infact, if memory served her correctly, the last train trip she made starkly contrasted the present situation. That trip was one of joy and celebration whereas this trip was motivated by worry and dread. It had been a wedding that prompted her to hop aboard a train to Topeka all those years ago. Durcell had made the move to Topeka a few years before Emily's marriage to Henry. Fresh out of school, he had been naïve and ambitious enough to hope that he'd become apart of one of those rags-to-riches success stories. Despite having grown up in a place surrounded by farms and agriculture, Durcell had never taken an interest in the family business. He was a quiet and thoughtful boy. He did not play sports, nor was he a top student. Emily used to jokingly compare the two of them to stones. Emily, an athletic and vocal young lady, was the perfect skipping stone; the impact of her presence made marvelous ripples. Durcell on the other hand was a sinking stone. He made very little impact on the waters around him and was content to view the world from the bottom of the pond. For all accounts, the only thing about Durcell that was not terribly average was his ability to dream in ways that most boys in his situation would never dare to. He longed to be a write the ultimate American masterpiece. A story that would capture the sweat and tears that were sewn into the very foundation of the country and chronicle the lives of seemingly ordinary people who would come to do extraordinary things. And he certainly was a talented writer, though his talents were often ignored by his peers. In a town whose revenue depended solely on crops, the ability to pair words prettily meant next to nothing. Emily's parents—who at the time managed three successful farms—were terribly disappointed with their son's aloofness. When Durcell announced that he'd be spending his savings to relocate into the big city and work on his book the Gales nearly disowned him. Emily, though she loved her brother dearly, also struggled with his eccentricities. However, she could never find it in her heart to cast him away and the two had kept in regular contact via letters over the years. As it turned out, Durcell was not too unwise to leave farm life behind. Emily's parents lost the majority of their crops to some sort of pestilence—possibly introduced through foreign trade. Whatever the cause, most of the Gale estate had been diminished in an attempt to salvage what could be salvaged. Shortly after Emily married Henry her parents passed away from consumption. The Long and Gale estates merged, leaving them with the farm that they had known as home for all these years.<p>

The years after her parents' death were difficult and filled with struggle and hard labor. If they had not found Hunk when they did, Emily doubted that she and Henry would have ever been able to turn a profit from their small little farm. The only highlight of those tiresome years was her brother's marriage to Gwen Deere. Emily had read a great deal about Gwen, as she was usually the topic of Durcell's love stricken letters. The daughter of wealthy Welsh merchants, Gwen seemed to be a perfect match for her brother. Her money could allow him to work on his book without interruption and her place in society would open channels towards publication that Durcell never could have managed on his own. In addition to the appeal of her social position, her brother did appear to be absolutely smitten with the young woman. And she was young. A mere girl of seventeen, Gwen looked surprisingly mature on her wedding day. If Emily had not been privy to her age she would have thought her to be a woman in her mid twenties at least. She certainly had the wit and sagacity of an older woman and Emily's first impression of her was that she was a very lovely sort of person. She only wished that she could have known her longer so that she would have something more to tell Dorothy about her family history. _Dorothy_. The thought of her niece brought Emily back to the present. The train had gained speed since last she looked and the scenery outside the compartment window was little more than a blur. When she listened carefully, Emily could hear snippets of conversation from nearby compartments. She heard children laughing and women gossiping. Her compartment was very quiet in comparison. The air amongst the little band was still heavy with anticipation. Henry sat quietly beside her, content to say nothing and worry in silence. Hunk and Zeke sat across from them and were no more boisterous. Hunk had taken to napping in short bursts. To an onlooker, the fact that Hunk managed to sleep might indicate an indifference to the situation at hand. Emily knew better however. Hunk, who was very much a son to her, had endured a very difficult few days. He had slept seldom and fretted often. Knowing that he'd need his strength for their renewed search for Dorothy, Hunk very wisely forced himself to capture any ounce of slumber her could find. Zeke was the only one to find any sort of pleasure in the present situation. He was the only one amongst them who had never ridden on a train before and the excitement of the train-ride was able to temporarily ease his mind. Emily laid her head against the compartment wall and let her mind wander as she eyed the passing landscape. Telltale signs of civilization began to emerge, starting with tiny houses and gradually progressing to larger settlements. Topeka's skyline occupied an ever-growing place on the horizon. Gently, Emily roused a sleepy Hunk. Within minutes they would arrive at the station and their search for Dorothy could finally begin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I can't tell you how glad I am to have finished this chapter. I'm officially at the half way point of this story! Hooray! There is nothing like breaking yourself out of a funk to lift your spirits. The next few chapters will hopefully make sense of some of the easter eggs I planted in earlier chapters. As always, reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. I have no one else to help me develop my craft so even the smallest notes are always helpful. **


	16. Truth Unmasked

**A/N: Thank Oz for Labor Day weekend! I really wanted to get another chapter out, as the last one was rather short. Fortunately I had time to spare! This chapter and the next will reveal a lot of what has been going on, including the strange dream conversations Dorothy has intercepted and the attempts on her life. Hopefully I can mange to pull everything together without make a terrible mess of everything. Also, I've decided to stick with the 'v' spelling of Steven's name. Everytime I write him in a chapter I somehow manage to spell his name atleast two different ways. So let me know if I switch again! I need to teach my fingers that they cannot get away with such tom foolery! **

* * *

><p>"What do you mean a report's already been filed?" Hunk demanded. Their train had docked at Topeka station well over two hours ago. While they had made for the police station with as much haste as possible the streets were packed with cars and coaches. A disgruntled and impatient Zeke pestered the cab driver long enough to learn that a large procession was holding up traffic on all the main streets. Apparently, the city was celebrating the governor's birthday. Emily, Hunk, Zeke, and Henry sat helplessly as their cab progressed at a painfully slow pace. What should have been a twenty-minute excursion ended up taking an hour. When the quartet finally did arrive at the police station all of their inquiries were rebuffed and they were ushered into a cramped waiting area that was closed off form the rest of the station. After nearly an hour of protesting and complaining, Hunk finally managed to get the attention of Officer Bradley. When Officer Bradley revealed the latest development in Dorothy's case, Hunk and company were stupefied.<p>

"I mean that a report has already been filed " Officer Bradley explained calmly. "A short while after you left, a representative from the Drundle Institute came to the station in order to file the report. Because your…niece was a new student she was not yet added to the school roster. Therefor, the employee our officers spoke to could not find her name on record."

"Ain't that convenient! They just happen to find Dottie's name AFTER ol' Hunk came to the police!" Zeke snorted.

"No matter what the case the report has been filed and your niece is one step closer to being found" Officer Bradley continued, ignoring Zeke's outburst.

"Excuse me officer," Emily began shakily, "but I'm afraid I don't understand. Our Hunk, a man who has known my niece for most of her life, was barred from a filing a report by your office because you declared his relation couldn't be proven. Meanwhile, precious hours were slipping by while my—our little girl was lost somewhere in this foreign city. Tell me…tell me how exactly it is that strangers at a school who may have withheld information from _your _investigation were allowed to file a report when a man who is her uncle in all areas that count could not!"

All eyes of the room focused on Emily, some in shock and others in respect. Hunk had very seldom heard Emily raise her voice in anger. She prided herself on being a good Christian woman. She had even tempered her tongue when Elmira Gulch threatened to euthanize poor Toto—a threat that Emily always believed was the cause of Dorothy's running away in the first place. To witness her now, in a police station of all places, finally loose her temper was a sight to behold. Officer Bradley, initially taken aback by the venom in Emily's voice, was the first to recover.

"Our office had no proof that knew Miss Gale. Infact, our office had no proof that your niece was missing at all. It would have been…ill-informed of us to have acted then. We have to give precedence to cases we know actually have merit—"

"How comforting it is to know that the safety of young girls does not have merit nor take precedence in your county, **officer**" Emily rebutted.

"Look, I don't expect you to understand the complexities of police protocol, but it's something that us officers have to abide. Just know that we're working closely on your daughter's case at the request of Geoffery Drundle himself."

"Drundle! But he was the one who withheld Dorothy's location in the first place!" Hunk gasped

" is an honest man. A man of integrity. The moment he heard of the mix-up he came down here and filed the report himself. If not for him then your niece would probably be even further from being found. You do yourself shame to slander him."

"Unbelievable" Hunk scoffed. Henry, who had not spoken a word since boarding the train hours ago, stood and placed his hand on Hunk's shoulder. He turned his gray eyes towards the flustered officer.

"Officer Bradley, we don't want to cause trouble for you. We respect that none of us are schooled on the law and protocols. Please understand, we're just a family missing their little girl something fierce. Dot has nowhere to go here—no one to turn to."

Bradley, who had moments before been on the offensive, softened considerably. Without the combative and accusatory tones of Emily and Hunk ringing in his ears, he was able to think of his own family at home. He too had a daughter, one who would be married soon. If she were to go missing he would be up in arms as well. Trying to keep his tone as reassuring as possible, Bradley ignored the hostile members of the party and focused solely on Henry.

"We are doing everything in our power to find your niece . I promise you that I will use every minute I can spare to make sure that your girl is back safe and sound."

Nodding slowly, Henry murmured his thanks and departed from the room. Zeke followed, supporting a trembling Emily as they left. Hunk lingered behind and stared Officer Bradley down, distrust still evident in his brown eyes.

"You'd better mean it Officer Bradley," he warned.

"Are you threatening me, ?"

"No," Hunk replied, shaking his head sadly, "I'm just a nobody in this town—a student in a sea of students. There's nothing I could do that would hurt you, and I'm not the type of person to try. I just want you to know that a whole mess of people love Dorothy Gale. So if you don't mean what you say—if you don't do your absolute best to find her, you'll be breaking a lot of hearts. If you don't find her, you'll be breaking a home."

* * *

><p>Geoffery Drundle was not amused. When his smug, incompetent nephew had informed him that the idiot Pike and his fellow farm mule were the only people associated with the girl to come looking for her he had foolishly believed him. By some twisted stroke of luck, Nurse Grey had been at the train station earlier that morning. She had stayed just long enough to see both the farmhands and the Longs spill out onto the loading platform. Ever astute, trusted Nurse Grey called Drundle immediately from the station's phone. It had taken him less than ten minutes to make it to the police house and file a report. In another stroke of good fortune, Officer Bradley had been on duty that morning. He had known Bradley's father for many years and had supported his son through school. Not that the presence of Bradley really made much of a difference. He knew the police chief as well, having successfully cured his wife of pneumonia years earlier. Geoffery Drundle was not a foolish man. He had always known he was destined for more than slight of hand and cheap road shows. When his brother had followed the family tradition of scamming farm folk out of their money for the promise of mystical delights, Geoffery vowed never to enter such a shameful life. No, he had set his sights higher. Much higher. When he was in his early teens, Geoffery left his family's sideshow act and traveled all around the country before becoming an apprentice to an apothecary in Topeka. Not satisfied with tinkering with chemicals, Geoffery caught the eye of a wealthy old widow. He romanced her for years, taking advantage of her enormous fortune to pay his way through medical school. After working as a physician for a few years, he realized that having power over life and death wasn't enough. People died and were born every day. No, the real power came from politics. Cases like the infamous <em>Plessy v. Ferguson <em>spoke to that fact. For if politics could decide what types of people deserved rights over others and dictate how those people interacted, the possibilities for an eager individual were endless. It was his strong political ties that were protecting him now and that had shielded the reality of his institute for the past few years. His foolish nephew, for all of his magical talent and charm, could not possibly understand the depths of his uncle's brilliance. When he imagined the look on his nephew's face as he tried to understand the brilliancy of his master plan, Drundle laughed. His laughter subsided when he felt the atmosphere in the room fizzle. It was a sensation he was quite accustomed to. It meant magic. Hastily closing his office curtains, Drundle turned just in time to see his nephew materialize in the center of the room. His magic sparkled and shined like diamonds.

Obnoxious pest

"Ah uncle, it's good to see you looking in tolerable spirits. I trust that your allegedly brilliant master plan as not come undone during my absence."

"No thanks to you!" Drundle spat, causing his nephew's eyebrows to raise in amusement. "Because of your incompetence I narrowly avoided a major headache."

"Well do let me know what is that I've so incompetently done uncle. If I cause you headaches then I like to know why so that I may remember my methods in the future."

"Don't jest Steven! The Longs were on the train as well. If Nurse Grey hadn't seen them and I hadn't been afforded time to save face and file a report myself I would have been combating police searches all week!"

"Ah, I see. I am sorry uncle. I really did see only the farmhands. Atleast all of this worrying has kept you from indulging your sweet tooth. I didn't want to say anything but you have become rather…rotund lately."

"You pompous little ferret—"

"_Drundle, do stop your temper tantrum. It is very unsightly, no to mention annoying."_

Drundle jumped back in alarm before glaring darts at his nephew. Steven smiled steadily, knowing full well how flustered his uncle was. Damn that boy!

"Oh do forgive me uncle. I forgot to mention that I've brought the Mistress with me. Well, part of her anyway" Steven finished, holding out a large opal. Reflected on the milky surface was a face that Drundle had come to know well over the past few years. It was the face that was responsible for the creation of the Institute. It was the face that had sent Steven to him from the land of Oz. It was the face that promised him immeasurable power.

"I'm sorry Mistress," he said hastily, trying to save face. "I was not aware that you were listening. I will—that is, I hope that you will forgive me of my ignorance."

"_Oh very well. I suppose I still have some use for you."_

"Thank you Mistress. May I ask the purpose behind this visit? I'm thrilled of course, though it is unusual for you to contact me at this time of day."

"_I have no need of you presently Drundle. I was merely talking to your delicious nephew before he saw fit to teleport here."_

"Ah…I see" Drundle said behind gritted teeth, glaring at his nephew once more. Steven was still smiling.

"_I take my leave of you now. I have a much anticipated house guest to attend to."_

The opal was wiped clean with an iridescent shine, leaving the two Drundles alone once more. Barely containing his anger, Geoffery turned on Steven and scowled.

"How could you humiliate me like that! You know how important she is to my future—our future!"

"Do calm yourself uncle. You'll wear holes in your oxfords if you keep stomping about like you do."

"This is not amusing!"

"I beg to differ."

"Boy—"

"Oh come now. It was all in good fun. She'll never respect you if you're always tripping over yourself like a beaten child."

"Unlike you, I do not have magic to fall back on. I have only a reputation that has taken decades to build and a mind that is regarded very highly. Here I am as good as a god. In your world—the world I long to enter—I am nothing. I need her respect to become something! But why do I expect you to understand? You've never had to work for anything a day in your life!"

"Not true—I just delivered a clowder of boisterous kittens. And I treated a sprained ankle."

"Yes, using _my _office and the schooling that _I _paid for! Why you even wanted to learn medicine I'll never know. If I had your power I'd—"

"Wish you had more. Anyway, I don't mean to occupy your valuable time. I just thought that I would share some of what our dear Mistress confided in me a few moments ago. That is if you don't think me too incompetent to relay the message."

Geoffery blinked stupidly for a moment or two before regaining his composure. It was unlike his nephew to share intimate details of his solitary meetings with their Mistress. Usually, he gave small hints and riddles, never fully answering anything important. Most of the time Geoffery seriously doubted that his churlish relation had anything truly interesting to divulge. Today however, when so many things had threatened to go wrong, he was willing to take a chance and hear what the boy had to say. Interpreting his uncle's silence as an invitation to continue speaking, Steven began to adjust his cufflinks while saying,

"Miss Gale has been successfully relocated to our Mistress's tower. Fortunately, she was not harmed during the journey. It can be very tricky you know, teleporting other people. Relocating your own soul is hard enough. Moving another's can be nearly impossible without the right connection. While the good witch's gaze is turned towards home you should take advantage of the lack of surveillance."

"Surveillance? What surveillance?" Drundle asked, his heart sinking into his stomach.

"Well, you didn't expect that you'd be safe from Glinda's gaze forever did you? I told you of her powers, and of her book of records. I have no doubt that Dorothy would have told her of your exploits. Since she's been gone for almost four days now I imagine that you've been watched for at least that long. I hope that you haven't done anything terribly…illegal."

"You know damn well that I have," he said through gritted teeth. Instead of lingering on to unsettle his uncle further, Steven winked and teleported away, leaving his uncle to consider the consequences of his words.

* * *

><p>Scarecrow stood by the bed of the royal guest chamber. Hours earlier, these chambers had been home to one of his dearest friends. Now the only indications that anyone had occupied the suite was the slight crinkle on the comforter where Dorothy and Toto had laid before they were spirited away to some unknown place. He should be signing papers and discussing policies. He should be keeping the company of his other friends. There were many things that should be that weren't.<p>

_Dorothy **should **be here. _

His active brain had been working overtime since last night. He hadn't slept. He doubt Leonas or Nick had either. How could such a thing happen? Why were such evils always drawn to Dorothy? She was such a nice girl. She was smart, brave, and kind. She was the first person who saw intelligence beneath the burlap and straw. For all the time that Scarecrow was nailed to that pole he watched many people travel the yellow brick road. It was the only passageway that connected all of kingdoms together. It was full of life. And yet, for all the life that passed him by, a little girl from a distant land, clad in blue with shoes of dazzling red, had been the only person to question a scarecrow's moving arms. In Oz, such enchantments were a common sight. Many a vagabond had noticed the life flowing through him but none had thought to question it. It took the fresh and naïve perspective of a foreigner to finally see the pain and discomfort masked by a painted face. Before Dorothy had come along, Scarecrow had known what he was but he did not know who he was. It was the reason why he had never taken a new name like his companions. When Dorothy called him Scarecrow, she had assigned him a who. Scarecrow became more than just a classification—it became a name. And names were things to be cherished.

Sighing, Scarecrow turned away from the bed. Staring at the empty space was incredibly depressing. He knew that Glinda was hard at work looking for Dorothy. If anyone could find her, Glinda could. However, this did not change the fact that Scarecrow felt both responsible and utterly helpless. When Dorothy had fled that horrible sham of a school, she had commanded the slippers to bring her home. And they did bring her home. The brought her to his home, his kingdom. She was supposed to feel safe here. Her friends were supposed to keep her safe. As King, it was his duty to keep all of the Emerald City's residents safe. For the first time since he had ascended the throne, Scarecrow felt like a miserable failure.

_Failure is when you cease trying_, Scarecrow thought. It was an old Ozian proverb he had heard many years ago. If he gave into his misery now then he would accomplish nothing. If Glinda found her—when Glinda found her, Dorothy would chastise Scarecrow if she found him to have despaired and done nothing. With a renewed sense of purpose, Scarecrow turned back towards the bed and began to replay last night's scene in his mind for the three-hundred and seventy-ninth time. There had to be something he missed. Everything that had happened up until that point had to be connected. The undead Winged Monkeys, the attack at Dorothy's dance, the Drundle Institute, the reappearance of the ruby slippers, and last night's attack and Dorothy's subsequent disappearance—there had to be a common thread between them all. So far, Dorothy was the only obvious commonality. Perhaps she possessed the answer all along but was not aware of it. Afterall, Scarecrow, Nick, and Leonas had all at one point doubted something they always had. But where to begin? A small glint by the foot of the canopy bed caught his attention. Sunlight from a partially opened curtain had found a metal clasp on Dorothy's trunk.

_The Trunk! _

He had known that it had been brought with Dorothy to Oz but had never questioned the contents. Now, with the answer to the riddle teasing the corners of his mind, Scarecrow felt compelled to explore the contents. He hesitated for a brief moment before unlatching the buckles and gingerly propping the lid open. He hoped that Dorothy would not be offended at this breach in privacy, though it was probably the farthest worry from her mind at the moment. Upon first glance, the contents of the trunk appeared rather ordinary. Most of trunk was filled with books. There was some sort of uniform sweater as well. The embroidered 'd' on the label indicated that it most likely belonged to the Institute. Scarecrow unfolded it and looked for anything out of the ordinary. Aside from being the wrong size the sweater was just an average sweater. Brellya would probably call it a crime against fashion. Pushing the wooly fabric aside, Scarecrow next began to examine the books. When he opened one book called _The Wind in the Willows_ a picture fell to the floor. The image was illuminated by the morning light. Two faces stared back at him. One of an older man and the other of an older woman. The woman he was sure was Dorothy's Auntie Em, which meant that the man had to be her Uncle Henry. Distracted, Scarecrow curiously studied the picture, bringing it close to his glass eyes. He had never taken the time to imagine what they might look like. Scarecrow had no family to speak of outside of his friends. He did not know the names of those that stuffed him, or painted his face. He had no mother and father nor uncle and aunt. He had never wondered what it might be like to have such people to call his own. He had wonderful friends. What more could he ask for? When you've spent the early years of your life strapped to a pole you learn to celebrate what you have when you have it.

Scarecrow continued sorting through the books, finding more trinkets along the way. In a book called _Peter and Wendy_ a small blue pressed flower fell out. In another book called _The Red Badge of Courage_ there was another picture. This time it depicted the men who worked on Dorothy's farm. She had mentioned all of their names at one point years ago and Scarecrow still remembered them all: Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke. She had said that he reminded her of one of them. Looking down at the picture, Scarecrow wondered which one was his other half. After sorting through most of the books to no avail, Scarecrow came to the last title in the trunk. It read _Frankenstein _by someone named . When he opened it, he was surprised to find that Dorothy had written some notes in the margins. He had not witnessed this in any of the other books. Judging by the condition of the binding, it was a book that she read a lot. Curiosity getting the better of him, Scarecrow decided to ignore his kingly duties for a while more. Leaning against the backboard of the bed, Scarecrow began to read.

* * *

><p>Waking came slowly to Dorothy. In fact, she might not have woken at all if Toto had not taken it upon himself to lick her face. She had dreamed of many things during the night. Some were images she had seen before, others were things she felt that she would see eventually. She was both scared and excited. Somehow, a part of Dorothy knew that there was something terribly important in her dream. However, try as she might she could not focus on any one scene. When Toto's wet tongue began to drench her cheek, Dorothy decided that the sensible thing to do was to wake up. The actual process was much harder than it should have been. She may not have been victim to sleep paralysis the night before but she most certainly was now. Her mind was awake but only parts of her body were. Her eyelids were the last things to wake-up. Steeling herself against the blinding morning light, Dorothy was surprised to find herself in a moderately lit room. If there were windows, they were hidden. The light came from the ceiling, which was covered with glowing stars. If she could not see the curve of the molding and the texture of the stone Dorothy would have thought she was outside. It was a beautiful piece of magic—beautiful enough to distract her from panicking for a few peaceful seconds. The memories of last night came screaming into her head. The room was no longer beautiful—it was terrifying. Where had she wound up this time?<p>

"You know Toto, I'm getting tired of waking up in strange places. It's beginning to feel like I'm stuck repeating the same tired plot point."

Toto sneezed. Looking around at the furniture, Dorothy noted that the room was rather dusty. She wondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, dusty furniture could mean that the room had not been used for anything unseemly for a long time. On the other hand, dusty furniture could mean that people avoided this room on purpose. Either way, Dorothy was not thrilled at the prospect of finding out. Toto jumped off of the bed in an energetic bound and began to scratch at a set of double doors. Apparently he cared for the room about as much as Dorothy did. Swinging her legs over the side of bed, Dorothy was relieved to see her feet still clad in the ruby slippers. She didn't know why wearing them comforted her so much. If anything, she thought that she might never wear them again after seeing what happened to Penelope. The light from the ceiling stars was hazily reflected on the polished surface of the slippers. The effect was almost hypnotizing. Toto barked sharply, snapping Dorothy out her trance. She gingerly slid to the floor and let her weight rest on her legs for a few seconds before trying to move. As she suspected her feet and calves were still very much asleep. Determined to find her way out of wherever she was, Dorothy limped over to the double doors. Every step she took felt like pins and needles were being shoved into her skin. Ignoring the uncomfortable sensation, she pressed down on the door handles and leaned her full weight against them. She let out a startled gasp as the doors gave way with ease. Clinging fiercely to one of the door handles, Dorothy narrowly avoided falling on her butt. Toto trotted out with much more grace and agility. Her quirked his head at her, as if saying, "are you going to hang there all day?"

"Next time you can test the door" Dorothy mumbled. She regained her footing and soaked in the corridor around her. She seemed to be in the middle of a t-section, with hallways to both of her sides and one infront of her. The atmosphere was very unusual. The décor consisted of varying shades of purple and green. All of the walls were divide in two by a chair rail. The wall that went towards the ceiling was green marble whereas the wall on the bottom of the chair rail was covered in purple wallpaper. The paper itself was embossed with an incredibly detailed floral pattern. Different flowers were depicted as different shades of purple, some of which sparkled. Floating orbs of light, enclosed by what appeared to be round wiry cages, lit the passages. The effect was dizzying. Dorothy was sure that if she did not find some natural light soon that she would loose her senses entirely. What was it that Peter had said to Wendy during their first encounter?

_Girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams_.

Dorothy smiled. She still had _Peter and Wendy _in her trunk back at the Emerald Palace. As far as she was concerned it was all the more reason to get out of the strange place holding her hostage. She looked around for a moment more before deciding to make finding a window her first priority. She had to figure out where in Oz she was, or at least discern what direction she was facing. After a few minutes of futile searching, Toto drew her attention to a curtain cord masked by the dim lighting.

"You always were good at finding hidden curtains," she laughed. Reaching forward, she grabbed hold of he spiraled rope and pulled. Wincing, she held her free hand over her forehead in an attempt to shield her eyes. After they had adjusted she eagerly began to survey the land outside. Her heart sank as she realized that nothing looked remotely familiar. She was clearly up a few floors. She was also clearly in the middle of forest. Which forest however she could not say. It could have been Leonas's forest, though she was sure that he'd probably know if a great big tower were occupying the skyline. She could have been in the forests around Munchkin Land. Heck, for all she knew she could have been in the middle of a forest in Europe. In actuality she had only spent a few weeks in Oz. During that time, she had kept to one path and one path only. She had never learned the names of places or how to find certain landmarks. It was unrealistic of her to have expected to know exactly where she was. Dorothy next turned her attention to the position of the sun. The tower was making long shadows towards the forest outside of her window.

"The sun must be on the other side of the tower then. And it's morning. Or at least I think it's morning. So if the sun rises in the east then I must be on the west end of the tower. And the Emerald City is in the central part of Oz, which means that I have to head east a ways then turn south. Does that make sense?"

Toto snorted and wagged his tail.

"Well, it's the best we have to go on for now. Of course, we still have to figure out how to get out of this tower."

Picking a hall at random, Dorothy turned towards the hall directly across her room. She narrowly missed walking headfirst into an iron divider. Toto was not so fortunate. His nose poked through a hole in the divider and he yelped in surprise. Reaching down, Dorothy pulled Toto back and tucked him under her arm.

"Now I know _that _wasn't there before. I suppose we'll go left then."

Turning back towards the room she came from, Dorothy turned left. There was no divider this time so she set Toto down and began to look for doors. The first door on her left was locked, as were all that followed it. As she was about to turn around and explore the opposite hall, Toto began to scratch again a black, glossy door. The handle was white, much to Dorothy's surprise. Up until that point every piece of furniture or architecture had been either green or purple. When she turned the knob she heard the locking mechanisms click. She pushed gently and the door swung open quietly. It led her towards a spiral staircase. Another divider blocked off the stairs heading up but the stairs heading down were seemingly free.

"Down it is then."

Toto hopped down the steps, taking them by twos. They continued to walk downward for what seemed to be eight floors. Every door they came to was either locked or blocked by something. The inside of the stairwell was tiled with purple marble and every now and then there would be a break for a small, diamond shaped window. The scenery outside still remained as foreign as ever. All she saw were trees and more trees. Once she thought she saw a person moving below but found that it was only a trick of shadows. For a brief moment she even thought she saw Nick.

_Wishful thinking I suppose_.

When she and Toto at last reached the bottom of the staircase they found the door leading out open and unhindered. She was relieved to leave the stairwell at last and took a moment to linger by the doorway before surveying her surroundings. She had never felt claustrophobic before. It was an entirely unpleasant feeling. Fortunately, the small hall running from the stairwell led to a bright an open space. It appeared to be a receiving area. Approximately thirty-feet to her left were two gargantuan doors, the largest of which she had ever seen. Rushing forward in a dead sprint, her slippers clicked against the tile. She had propelled herself so forcefully that she actually slid across the floor when she tried to stop, crashing into the door with a painful thud. With freedom in her sights, Dorothy ignored the bruise forming on her shoulder and desperately tried to wrench the doors open. They did not feel locked—she could depress the handles easily enough. They were heavy however and Dorothy doubted even Zeke, Hick, and Hunk combined could pry them open. Where were the door guards? Where were the tower workers? Cautiously she looked around the hall for signs of life. Nothing moved. No noises were made. _Someone _had to be there though. _Someone _had to have brought her there in the first place. Such a large place couldn't maintain itself on its own. Toto circled the hall before coming back to the two large doors and sitting on the cool tile. Dorothy let her back rest against the doors as she thought about her course of action. She couldn't loose her prams. She had to be like Wendy, Alice, Princess Irene, and every other brave heroine from her favorite stories. She had to forgo fear and let the situation dictate what course she took. If she could not leave the tower by herself then she would just have to find whoever or whatever had brought her here in the first place.

"_I fear that someone wishes you great harm Dorothy" _Isn't that what Glinda had said?

_No, I cannot let myself become the tool of my own fear_. _I have to keep going_.

A sound reverberated through the massive hall, causing Dorothy to jump in surprise. Toto's ears shot up and his head tilted towards the opposite end of the hall. Two doors that Dorothy had not realized were there were slowly being pushed open. She held her breath, afraid of who might come through. After a few minutes, when no one emerged, Dorothy rallied her fear and began to slowly walk towards the opening. She was reminded of how nervous she had been when she first met the Wizard. Before she had known of the man behind the curtain the Wizard had terrified her. If her friends had not been with her Dorothy doubted that she would have found the nerve to ever talk back to him, let alone agree to go on what then seemed like a suicide mission. There were no one to help her this time. She had to find the courage to walk herself. Toto kept her pace, clearly as anxious as she was. She reached the doors and slid through the opening.

The room before her was built with a stone unlike the marbles she had seen in the rest of the tower. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of older European castles. Large sheets of purple velvet were draped across the ceiling's high dome, coming together in the middle and held in place by a large star. Torches lit up most of the space with a bizarre flame that appeared green but cast a white light.

"Welcome Dorothy Gale," a feminine voice cooed. It came from an ornate throne situated at the end of the room. The voice's owner, partially obscured by shadow, stood and made her way down a small flight of steps. Her shoes were the first things to catch Dorothy's attention. They appeared to be made entirely out of sterling silver. As the form came closer, hips swaying with each step, Dorothy's mouth fell open in shock. The woman looked eerily familiar. She was also incredibly beautiful. Her green skin soaked up the unusual rays cast from the green torches and practically sparkled. Her dark hair shone with a vaguely purple tint and her figure reminded Dorothy very much of a silent movie starlet. Green skin, dark hair, eyes full of fire…

"You're—you can't be. You look just like the Wicked Witch of the West. Only, you're different somehow" Dorothy managed, her words barely louder than a whisper. The woman stopped a few feet before her and let out an airy laugh.

"Elphaba? Oh my lovely, please do not make me laugh so! I am surely easier on my eyes than she ever was. Don't you think so, Captain Fyter?"

Dorothy heard the door behind her close. It took everything she had not to jump and scream. Footsteps echoed through the hall, clanging sharply against the floor. Through her peripheral vision, Dorothy caught the glint of metal. Moments later, a tall man came to stand next to the witch standing before her. Her mouth, which she had managed to close while the witch was talking, fell open once again. The man appeared to be a mixture of metal and flesh. His arms were both clearly metal, but his face was quite human. The rest of his body was obscured by a black militaristic uniform. His hair and eyes were an unnatural shade of silver that echoed the metallic gleam of his exposed arms. Taking no notice of the gaping girl infront of him, the man called Captain Fyter turned towards the witch and bowed.

"Yes, my lady. Much easier"

"Oh you do flatter me so!" the woman laughed. Dorothy really wished she would stop laughing–it sent chills up her spine. The witch giggled and flipped her long hair. In astonishment Dorothy noted that the woman's hair did not seem to obey the laws of gravity. It flowed around the air as if it were under water. No, this was definitely not the Wicked Witch of the West. But then, who…

"Don't tell me you don't remember me. I should be hurt! But then, you never did get a good look at, well, _all _of me" the witch said, stretching one long green leg out through a slit in her black dress. Puzzled and still frightened out of her mind, Dorothy said the only thing she could think of.

"I don't understand. We've, uh, met before?"

"Oh course we have lovely! After all, you did drop a house on me! That sort of thing makes a lasting impression on a girl you know!"

A house, a pair of legs, and shining shoes. Dorothy Gale was staring at someone who should not exist. Dorothy Gale was staring at the Wicked Witch of the East.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: DUM DUM DUM!**


	17. Stolen Magic

**A/N: I'm sorry that this one took a little while. I started on at immediately after the last chapter but life kept interfering with my progress. It also didn't help that there are scenes in this chapter that I've been thinking about for a while. Hopefully I managed to find the words to do them justice.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Stolen Magic<strong>

Generally speaking, when you drop a house on someone they die. And when they die they tend to stay dead. The rules of generality do not always apply in a magical world such as Oz. Five years ago when a rogue twister swept Dorothy, Toto, and their house over the rainbow and into a strange new world, Dorothy had not been aware of the existence of witches. She had not been aware of a pair of sisters, one ruling the west and the other the east, who were feared for their cruelty throughout the land. When her house finally touched ground in the Munchkin Land, Dorothy had no knowledge of having killed someone. When the deed had finally been revealed and the magical ruby slippers transferred to her feet, she had felt very little guilt in the matter. Everyone around her had assured her of the justness of her deed. The Munchkins celebrated her as a hero and no one bemoaned the loss of their former ruler. That was when the Wicked Witch of the East was just a pair of stripped legs beneath a house. Now, as Dorothy faced a living, breathing being—a being that undoubtedly craved revenge—she couldn't help but feel guilty of a terrible crime. Afterall, the witch had said it herself: death by house was not something anyone was liable to forget. Mouth suddenly gone dry, Dorothy attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. The witch's dark, smoldering eyes were still focused on her frightened blue ones. She could not read the emotion within though she suspected it was nothing pleasant.

_I have to say something. I have to try and keep myself alive._

"I—I'm sorry"

"Sorry?" the witch cooed.

"You must know, I never intended to kill you. I didn't know what would happen or where I would end up. I just—there was a twister. I thought I was going to die. When I woke up I was in Oz and you were…I'm so sorry. I'm not a murderous person really, I was just a little—"

Her words were cut short by a bout of uncontainable laughter. Toto whimpered quietly, obviously as disturbed by this sudden outburst as Dorothy was. She hazarded a glance at the stoic man who stood off to the witch's side. For a moment, she thought she saw something flash across his face.

_Pity? Or maybe, amusement? _

"Oh dear—ha ha—oh, my. You're not still fretting over that are you? Such a sweet thing you are!"

"Sweet? I—I don't understand. Don't you want…don't you want to kill me?"

"Hmm…no. Though I did think about it for a short while, in the last moments of my former life. Oh yes, I envisioned doing positively _dreadful_ things to you. I'd tell you what they were but—oh goodness, I'm too embarrassed"

The witch began to giggle. She covered her face with one hand and placed the other on her stomach in an attempt to steady herself. Dorothy had a very limited experience with witches. She had met a good witch and a bad witch. She knew how they were _supposed _to act. Giggling like a schoolgirl was most certainly not how a bad witch was supposed to act. At a loss for words, Dorothy decided to remain silent. After a few minutes of giggling, the witch managed to regain some of her composure.

"I'm sorry—I just have such an overactive imagination. Sometimes it runs away from me. No, I'm not going to kill you. Afterall, we're practically sisters you an I. And you're so adorable, unlike Elphaba. I never did understand how I was supposed to be related to that stuffy old hag. No, I'd much rather have someone like you to call my own."

"Sisters?" Dorothy asked slowly, not sure if she heard the witch correctly.

"Oh dear, the white witch did tell you didn't she? Or maybe—could it be that the great and powerful Glinda has not figured it out yet? Oh how marvelously amusing! Oh come now, don't look so startled. I promise I'm not going to kill you, though others would certainly have you dead. Oh, come closer—let me get a good look at you!"

Dorothy remained where she was. As much as she would have liked to claim that her feet did not move out of defiance, in actuality she was far too frightened to go anywhere at all. Even if she wanted to, Dorothy doubted that she could will her feet to shuffle an inch let alone a meter. The witch rolled her eyes and smiled. She began to walk towards her, filling the gap between them in seconds. Dorothy wanted to do something—anything—to defend herself. She tried to call on her magic but felt no reply. The witch reached out her hands and began to inspect Dorothy's face and hair.

"Oh you are positively adorable! I didn't think it would work—what with your pink complexion, but we do look so good together don't we Captain?"

"Yes, Mistress"

"Can't you picture it—Dorothy and Zephyra? Hmm…on second thought, perhaps we should find you a better name. One that begins with a 'z' perhaps? Oh I am glad I decided not to kill you!"

"I don't—at the risk of sounding very repetitive," Dorothy began, leaning away from Zephyra's touch, "I don't understand this at all. You—you're a wicked witch aren't you? An evil witch? And I—I killed you. How are you here? What is it that you want from me? What does Glinda know or not know?"

"Oh, finally—questions! I was worried that you were a quiet one! Well, if Glinda hasn't used the mind she so often congratulates herself for having to figure out the entire picture then I would be remiss to spoil the surprise. Oh, how disappointed you look! Very well, I will tell you some of the riddle as your sister. But the rest," she whispered, leaning into Dorothy's ear, "you will have to figure out for yourself."

"To answer your first questions, I was rather wicked in my day. Good and evil are such _confining _concepts though. I really don't remember much of what I've done, though I've been told I've done quite a bit. And I did die thanks to your little house stint. But it's alright dear—I forgive you. I even forgive you for taking my shoes—silver really is more my colour anyway. And they'd be of little use to me now as your body has taken hold of most of the magic. I seem to recall that the little people even made a catchy song about my demise. Remind me to kill the Mayor later, would you Captain?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"I died, and was dead for quite sometime before mumsy decided to bring me back. She could have revived Elphaba, but who wants a minion who melts? And here I am, as lovely as ever—even more so, I think. Then again, I don't rightly remember how I was before. The Captain has often told me but I'm afraid I don't have a head for that sort of thing. In one ear, out the other. As to what I want from you that much is simple. I want a new sister and you've passed all of my tests. We're already sisters in magic. Your magic is mostly mine you know. It is a _Stolen Magic_, borne from the slippers of my creation. You're practically apart of me! That's how I managed to bring you here despite the powerful magic protecting the palace. We have a magic connection, among other things. And you do sort of owe me a sister don't you dearest? I may not have liked Elphaba, but she was the only one I had. There is one more important connection between us but unfortunately I cannot tell you. I want to see the look on Glinda's face when she finally puts the pieces together. Be a dear and tell me _all about _it."

Sisters in magic? Sisters in more ways than one? It doesn't make sense. I'm not from Oz. My parents died before they had another child. It—it can't be. There must be a lie in here somewhere. There must be…

As Dorothy was absorbed in her thoughts, dumfounded and startled by witch's revelations, Captain Fyter leaned towards Zephyra and whispered something into her ear. It must not have been pleasant, as the witch's response was to pout and release Dorothy's face with a sigh.

"I'm afraid my dear Captain has a point, lovely. It really wouldn't be in the best interest of your health to stay here any longer. You are so lucky to have lived without a mother. It really is very inconvenient when they decide to pop in and check up on your evil progress. And I'm afraid that I've fallen a tad short of my evil quota this week. I daresay she was expecting to find corpse dangling from the turrets by now. I suppose finding that munchkin Mayor will help."

"You can't mean you're going to kill him!" Dorothy gasped. Much to her chagrin, Zephyra began to laugh again.

"Don't worry sister dear, I'll be sure to tell you all about it so you won't feel left out. Captain Fyter, please escort Dorothy dear out. It would be best to use the back I think—mumsy tends to go for the big entrances."

"If you'll follow me Miss Gale" Captain Fyter said, gently taking hold of Dorothy's arm and pulling her towards a door to the left of the throne. Toto, eager to leave, trotted ahead of them.

"Wait!" Dorothy called, twisting her head over her shoulder. "Why did you send Winkies to Kansas? What does have to do with any this? Who was the other voice in my head?"

As Captain Fyter pulled her through the small wooden door at the back of the room, Dorothy heard Zephyra's haunting laugh once more.

"You'll just have to wait and see sister! Wait and see!"

The door closed on the witch and Dorothy was hastened down a dark hall. It seemed as though she would be leaving with more unanswered questions than when she had arrived. As the magical lights blurred around her, she wondered if they were questions that she even wanted answered.

* * *

><p>A book that may have taken an average brain a few days to complete took Scarecrow only a few hours. He knew that he really shouldn't be reading at a time like this. There were things to do—mysteries to be solved. The Emerald City was filled with life and as such problems. There was always something to be done for a King of such a place. He had not managed to find one rest day during the entirety of the past five years. Fortunately, Scarecrow did not require sleep. He could if he wanted to, but sleeping frightened him. He was always fearful that someone would destuff him while he was resting or set him ablaze. They were irrational fears that the logical portion of Scarecrow's brain dismissed as childish. The illogical part of his brain, though incredibly small, clung to such fears with a vice grip.<p>

There was something about this particular book that compelled him however. Maybe it was the promise of a few hours of distraction he knew it would provide. Sometimes, when his mind was working on something especially difficult to crack, he increased his chances of success by forcing himself to think of something else. Maybe it was the connection to Dorothy he felt when he read her hand written notes and observed which passages meant the most to her, as she had placed little stars next to them. He hadn't had the opportunity to discuss her interests in books. He had planned to yesterday morning before he was called away to fulfill one of his many kingly duties. Scarecrow was of the opinion that a love of reading spoke a lot about a person. Futhermore, one could dissect the various layers of a person's personality by examining the books they read. This particular book, _Frankenstein_, showed Scarecrow an interesting aspect of his friend's personality. It was not the sort of book he would normally associate with someone as kind as Dorothy. The story was a dark one, though the language was lovely. After having experienced her fair share of monsters, Scarecrow would have figured that the last thing Dorothy would have wanted to read was a story about just that—monsters and their makers. Still, he supposed that there was a lot he probably didn't know about his dear friend. They had only known eachother for a few weeks of their lives. To Scarecrow, those weeks were the most important weeks he had ever experienced. They were the first weeks in which he had really _lived_. In a span of a few weeks, a life that had been full of solitude and banality was suddenly filled with wonder and friendship. By the end of those two weeks, Scarecrow had gone from being inept at scaring crows to being a King. As he gave the book a final read through, one passage in particular caught his eye:

"_No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these reflections, I thought that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption."_ *

Life and death. To renew life—to revive the dead.

The floodgates that were keeping his mind at bay flung open. A myriad of different thoughts and sensations overtook him all at once, causing him to drop the book that had so enraptured his attention moments before. Vital pieces of the puzzle that had been missing suddenly fell into place. It had been so obvious! How had he and Glinda not seen it earlier! Dorothy's magic, the ruby slippers, the strange female voice in her dreams—all of it made perfect sense!

_Renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption_. He had read of such things before in the royal records. He had read of the witch who was capable of such an unbelievable feat—a Victor Frankenstein living in Oz! And the monster—the monster could very well have Dorothy! Scarecrow hurriedly rose from the floor, tripping over himself as he made frantically for the door.

_I have to find Glinda_.

* * *

><p>The halls around her blurred. She was fighting against two conflicting instincts. One demanded that she break free of her silver haired escort and run back towards the throne room to demand answers. When she had woken in her strange age-worn room hours ago, she did not think she had expectations regarding how her day would play out. And then, moments earlier, when the truth—or at least, a partial truth—had been laid bare before her she had felt confused and, strangely enough, robbed of something. It was then that she realized that there was some need she had been expecting to be filled. More than answers, she had wanted closure for all the things that had happened to her in recent months. She wanted closure for the broken friendships, family hardships, and dead acquaintances. As Captain Fyter guided her on, wheeling her around countless corners and through countless doors, the truths that she had discovered hardly seemed to matter anymore. The closure she had so desperately needed had not come and as a result she felt emotionally exhausted. It wasn't until that point that Dorothy realized just how many feelings she had swallowed over the years. Now, as they threatened to break free of their prisons all at once, all she wanted to do was find some calm, quiet place to hide. Sweet, crisp air tickled her nostrils, bringing her back to reality. Without even realizing it, Dorothy had been led outside. The sun had moved positions since she had last checked. It was lazily dropping towards the west, the promise of sunset hours away. Captain Fyter gently pushed her against the stony wall of the keep with his left arm. Surprised by this unwelcomed contact, Dorothy stifled a shriek. Toto, who had been ahead of the pair for most of the journey, stood between his girl and the strange captain. Beneath the warbling of nearby birds and the rustling of the forest, Dorothy could hear Toto growling softly. She risked a glance at her guide and noted the concern on his face. He was cautiously looking around them, letting his eyes wander over a large area before whipping his head back to the beginning of his search. It was almost as if he thought someone was lying in wait and he expected to catch them by glancing back at the precise moment. When he was satisfied that the monsters of his imagination were absent from the surrounding environment he released his grip and let Dorothy release a breath she had not known she was holding. As he turned to meet her eyes, Dorothy realized how much taller he was than her. She had always been petite. When she was little girl Hunk had jokingly called her a rare Kansas pixie. During her last birthday she had all but abandoned any hopes of last minute growth spurts. Aside from her short height Dorothy also had a very small frame. Years of farm life had made her moderately athletic. In a frightening moment of clarity, as she took in the broadness of the Captain's shoulders and his firm build, she realized that she would have very little defense against him should he decided to do away with her. The magic that she had been informed she possessed seemed to pay little mind to her calls. Aside from a spirited Toto, Dorothy knew that she was easily outmatched. Just as her mind was beginning to run wild with possible fight scenarios the Captain's easy tone cut through the silence. Once again, Dorothy found herself jumping in surprise.<p>

"We don't have much time," he said. "The black witch approaches. Once she is here you will not be able to remain hidden. If she finds you, she will kill you."

"Who—"

"Don't speak, just listen. You have to use your slippers to return to the Emerald City. The white witch, Glinda, gave you a visitor's key when you first arrived. You should be able to slip through the Palace's magical barriers with ease. When you arrive, tell the witch of everything you've seen here. No detail is too trivial. With this information she should be able to finally realize the plans at play. My only hope is that it is not to late."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Dorothy whispered. The Captain continued speaking as if he hadn't heard her.

"A name will be the key to the truth. Lillias Radgnal. Remember it well. Now, concentrate on your magic. Remember what it felt like when you used the shoes to travel before. Don't over think it and don't fight your feelings. _Feel _that you want to go. The rest will follow suit."

Dorothy bent down and scooped Toto into her arms. She made a mental note to ask Brellya for a basket once she returned to the Palace. If she was going to be teleporting all over Oz then she needed to make sure that Toto was secure. Dorothy liked to think herself a good judge of character. Despite the fears she had felt seconds earlier she _knew _that she could trust the Captain's words. Though there were so many questions that she wanted answered Dorothy shoved them out of her mind and focused on the image of the Palace. When she first used the slippers to return to her dull side of the rainbow she had been picturing the farm with all of her might. Now she summoned up images of the Palace. She thought of her friends. She thought of her room, making sure to remember small details in order to make the picture seem more real. She clicked her heels together once.

_There's no place like Home_.

Twice.

There's no place like Home.

Thrice.

There's no place like Home.

The world around her began to spin. Air that had been still whipped through her hair with force. As the tower began to fade away and she steeled herself for a ride she knew to be dizzying and turbulent, Captain Fyter spoke once more. His words were almost lost in the wind.

"You have friends in unexpected places Dorothy Gale."

The world around her changed. Her only thoughts were towards home.

* * *

><p>Being King had its advantages. With the layout of the Palace clear in his mind, Scarecrow burst out of Dorothy's room and directly into a secret passageway a mere meter away. There were some passageways that were very well known to the castle staff. Afterall, staff used the halls more than the monarch generally did. As such, it was only natural that routes originally designed to be a secret were discovered in little time at all. There were some paths, however, that were still relatively unknown. In fact, sometimes certain paths would shift locations entirely. As he had explained to Jack and Jinjir in their meeting yesterday the Palace was very much a living thing. Years of powerful magic seeping into the earth had eventually formed a distinct consciousness. The consciousness, often called The Whisperer by locals, lived in every inch of the Palace. Some claimed that the magic was so powerful that it traveled miles underground, branching out in all directions. It was both the magic in the walls and a separate entity. It seldom communicated though when it did it was usually through physical means instead of verbal means. One such mean was to occasionally relocate the Palace corridors—especially those hidden within the walls. Fortunately for Scarecrow his chosen path was unchanged today. He rushed through he confined space as swiftly as his straw legs could carry him. The poles that ran through his body were light and thin, making his steps quick and easy. His major joints however had never been very flexible. There was only so much bend one could get of straw—even if said straw was magically influenced. A trip that would have normally taken him thirty-minutes if he had taken the common path took him only five through use of the magic corridors. Spotting an exit, Scarecrow burst out into the hall at the bottom of Glinda's scrying tower. A nearby servant jumped in alarm before hastily executing a lop-sided bow. Scarecrow had just enough kingly composure to offer a kind smile and nod before running up the winding stairs. Without knocking he burst through the tower doors. The momentum saw him performing a sloppy roll on the floor, stopping a few inches short of the train of Glinda's skirt. A few feet away, Leonas jumped in surprise.<p>

"Good evening," Glinda said calmly, as if such interruptions were perfectly common.

"Good—," Scarecrow began, stumbling to his feet, "evening, Glinda. Leonas."

"That was definitely a…kingly entrance" Leonas said, his furry face breaking into a toothy smile.

"I am sorry about intruding but there's something incredibly important that I must discuss with you—the both of you."

"By all means then, discuss it" Glinda said, becoming for Scarecrow to sit in a freshly magicked seat. Just as he leaned towards the offered seat the tower doors—which were magicked to always close after being opened—burst open once more. Nick came stumbling in, running into Scarecrow and pulling the both of them down onto the cold title with an audible smack. Leonas jumped once more and Glinda had to hide her smile behind one of her hands. The ball of tin and straw rolled about a bit before both men managed to detangle themselves and stagger to their feet. Glinda summoned another chair and both Nick and Scarecrow staggered to their seats. Leonas, after having overcome his initial shock, was doing his best not to snigger.

"I think that I should lock the door, don't you agree, Leonas?" Glinda said after having regained her composure.

"Yes, I think that would be for the best."

The tower doors clicked and Glinda spread her skirts before taking her seat. Lacing her long fingers together, Glinda set her hands on the table and looked at the two bedraggled men with calm eyes.

"As Scarecrow is king of this Palace and he did burst through my door first I think it is only fair that we hear his important news first. Any objections?"

"Well, alright. It is fair I suppose. But please do make it quick Scarecrow—I have something _very _important to share" Nick said, fiddling with his fingers like a nervous child.

"As do I Nick. I promise that I'll be as brief as possible. And please don't fiddle so, you'll work your joints into rusting! I'm sorry that I came in unannounced Glinda—and Leonas—but I have something incredibly important to say. I know who has taken Dorothy."

"What?" Leonas and Nick demanded in unison. Glinda inclined her eyebrows in surprise but made no move to interrupt Scarecrow's story.

"I promise that I'll explain everything as best I can. It all started with a book"

Scarecrow began to recount the story of _Frankenstein_, taking extra time to mention the passage that had caught his eye verbatim. He could tell that his friends were trying their patience as they listened to what appeared to be a book report. Fearing that he would leave out an important detail, Scarecrow tried not to rush through his retelling. When he had finished, he stood waiting—expecting his friends to jump to the same conclusion he had moments earlier. Unfortunately, they did not.

"I don't understand Scarecrow," Leonas began, "how this story tells us where Dorothy is. Was she taken to this Geneva place?"

"I highly doubt it Leonas, Geneva is in a land called Switzerland on Dorothy's side of the rainbow," Glinda said kindly. "Perhaps if you would take the time to lay out _all _of the facts for us Scarecrow…"

"Right. Yes, of course. After all, if you didn't know what I know then that passage would seem awfully out of place wouldn't it. All right, let me try to slow my mind for a while so that I can speak the thoughts I've been thinking. These are the facts we know for certain: Dororthy was attacked by a flying monkey—a dead one, which I think you'll confirm Glinda, with your inspection of out captive. The magic that deals with death and resurrection is very dangerous. Correct me if I'm wrong Glinda, but haven't many magic users in Oz's history died from meddling with such black arts?"

"Yes, I've seen more than a few fall in my time from such experimentation."

"But there has been one witch who was able to accomplish quite a bit with black arts."

Glinda's eyes glimmered in recognition. Scarecrow knew that she was beginning to piece together the puzzle, which emboldened him to continue.

"That witch—the witch known as Mombi—is almost as old as Oz itself. She was so adept at manipulating magic that she made for herself two daughters. She also managed to extend her life unnaturally through the use of life transference magic. Her daughters—the Wicked Witches of the East and West—were both destroyed at the hands of Dorothy. Therefor, if we combine the fact that black arts have been used to target Dorothy and that those arts involved the ruby slippers, winged monkeys, and a school for girls—everything falls into place!"

"I was afraid of this" Glinda said quietly, unable to hide the worry wrinkles on her forehead. Nick looked at Leonas, and then back at Scarecrow before saying,

"I'm sorry, Scarecrow. I'm still not entirely sure what exactly has fallen into place."

"Nor am I" Leonas added.

"Centuries ago," Glinda began, "I, and some of my best students, decided to put an end to the witch known as Mombi. She had caused me, and all of Oz, a great deal of trouble in the early days. For a while, it appeared as though she was loosing strength. In truth, she had changed bodies with an elderly woman. With her new face, Mombi opened a border school for girls. She claimed to be teaching healing magics. She mostly targeted orphans, or girls of poor families. Eventually however, some of the girls were missed. Upon investigation, we discovered that Mombi had been farming young girls for their magic and their bodies. It was her key to immortality. I am of the Fae, therefor I naturally have a very long lifespan. Mombi was not, and as such she could not run from time forever. So she stole time from others. Together with my students, as well as Orphne, the Witch of the South, we managed to free the girls that could be saved and to reduce Mombi's power. We always feared that she had managed to dilute her life force somehow, attaching it into different objects or people. We knew that we weren't rid of her then, but there were more worrying events occurring at the time. The reign of King Pastoria had fallen, and his only heir Ozma disappeared. While we set about trying to keep the Emerald City from crumbling, we tried out best to keep Mombi under close guard. She had been imprisoned in a crystal for quite some time, though eventually her daughters managed to free her while my hands were full. As Scarecrow said, Mombi had two daughters, both created through magic. One was Elphaba of the west and the other was Zephyra of the east. Elphaba was not possessed of a great amount of magic though she was very cunning. Zephyra, on the other hand, was mostly magic and incredibly unbalanced. You know this very well Nick, as it was because of Zephyra that you lost your body."

"Yes, that's right. Nimmie was her servant when she ruled Munchkin Land. It's as you said—she was very unbalanced. She could go from a state of childlike naivete to a state of cruelty in seconds. Nobody knew what would set her off. She enchanted my ax when she heard that Nimmie and I were to be engaged. If it wasn't for Ku-klip—one of Orphne's students—I wouldn't have survived. Yes, now I think I see it as well. The wicked witch of the west was in charge of Winkie Kingdom before I was. She had many flying monkeys at her disposal. With help from her mother's dark magic, as well as her agenda against Dorothy—of course, it really does all make sense! Then we have no time to loose! We must look find Dorothy at once—her life really is in danger!"

"But where would we even begin to look?" Scarecrow said, throwing his arms into the air. "Surely Mombi wouldn't be stupid enough to have taken Dorothy to her old haunts. She's managed to stay under the radar for all of this time…"

"There is something else as well," Leonas said. He had remained quiet while Scarecrow, Glinda, and Nick had spoken. While he wasn't always credited for his intelligence, as a feline he had a very keen mind. Though he could not figure out the puzzle on his own, once the pieces were laid before him Leonas could study them with a clarity unique to cats. "We still do not know _which _sister Mombi brought back."

"Does it matter? Either way she's in trouble!" Nick cried. He was dreadfully close to having a panic attack.

"If it was Elphaba or Mombi who took Dorothy, then she is very likely to be unharmed. They are both very vain creatures who take pleasure in explaining their plans for all to hear. No doubt the only harm they would have accomplished would be to monologue Dorothy ill. If it was Zephyra however…"

"However?" Scarecrow prompted.

"I'm afraid that Zephyra has always been beyond my abilities to predict. Either way, I believe Dorothy is very much alive now, though she surely won't remain so for long. As to where they are, you can leave that to me. Now that I know the facts of the case, finding her should be a much simpler task."

Standing abruptly, skirts flowing around her, Glinda glided towards her scrying mirror. She gently poked the surface of the water with the tip of her index finger, sending soft ripples throughout the basin.

"I've tried scrying before for Dorothy to no avail. For some strange reason, the palace has been expelling a great deal of magic. The work of the Whisperer, no doubt. This sudden release of very old magic has been rendering all of my sessions fruitless. I've caught traces of magic from time to time—oddly enough, there seems to be some sort of string of magic somehow attached to Dorothy. However, when I tried to follow the string it splinters off into many different directions. Maybe, just maybe the palace's magics have calmed down enough for me to do a proper—"

A bright light jumped off the water's surface, interrupting Glinda's sentence

"What was that? Did you find her?" Scarecrow asked.

"Yes, and no. She used the slippers, but the flow of her magic was disrupted. I believe that she meant to use them to come back to the palace. There's still so much interference however—it looks as though she was redirected to somewhere else entirely."

"Were?"

"I tend to find out."

* * *

><p>While Dorothy was spinning she felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. Something wasn't right. She should have been at the palace already. Just when she thought she would be sick from the constant spinning the air around her fell away and felt cold stone against her back. Toto shook his head and staggered about. She had been holding onto him rather fiercely during the trip for fear of loosing him along the way. Despite having been thrown about for what seemed to be hours, Dorothy felt surprisingly clear headed. She opened her eyes cautiously. She had received quite enough surprises the day and was quite ready for something familiar and comfortable. Evidently, her magic did not agree with her sentiments. The building around her was old and crumbling. The bricks that kept the ancient structure together had been weathered from time. Her hand brushed against something soft and wet. A strange type of blue-purple lichen was growing between the cracks in the floor. She slowly rose to her feet. Nearby was the frame of window that had long since been broken. When she glanced outside, her heart skipped a beat. In the warm light of an approaching sunset, Dorothy could see the faint gleam of the Emerald City's green towers. The massive structure of the Palace looked incredibly small, and Dorothy supposed she must have been at least ten miles away. Still, she could see her home. Somewhere, one of her friends was probably looking out at her without even knowing it. All she had to do no was to let them know she was near and hope they would reach her before nightfall. After a day full of witches, Dorothy shuddered to think of what might be lurking out in the meadow between the strange, crumbling building and the palace after nightfall.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hopefully I've managed to surprise you all with my plot twist. It was planned though, and I hope that came across in this chapter. This one isn't too long but was very hard for me to write. I had to keep backtracking to make sure that I didn't contradict myself. Be sure to keep an eye out as there is still one major surprise to come.

*this excerpt is from the third chapter of the electronic edition of the book. I have two print editions, but the electronic one was just easier to access. You can get the e-book for _Frankenstein _free through the Gutenberg Project. You can also get the first seven of the Oz books.


End file.
